For Auld Lang Syne
by MissMelysse
Summary: Three New Years Eves over the span of a relationship. Begins about a year into my WIP "Crush" - ends about two years before "Nemesis." Data/OFC. Canon bent to accommodate the story. Rated T for implied consensual sex and discussion of reproduction. Complete.
1. For Auld Lang Syne

**Disclaimer: **Paramount owns everything from canon; I own the rest. This takes place along-side and in-between Crush and Strawberry.

* * *

**Auld Lang Syne**

**I**

**22 December 2367 (Earth equivalent date) - Centaurus Central Spaceport**

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
and never brought to mind ?  
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
and auld lang syne?_

"You really don't have to wait with me," I told my companion as I fidgeted in my too-uncomfortable chair. It was bolted to the floor, one of a row of several similarly uncomfortable chairs. "I mean, I'm almost seventeen. I really don't need a babysitter."

He ignored my snarky tone, and reminded me mildly, "I promised your mother I would escort you safely into your father's care."

I rolled my eyes at that. "Just because some girl from the back of beyond managed to get herself sent to New Tierra instead of Earth doesn't mean I'm that clueless," I grumped. "I'm surprised she didn't give you one of those kid-leashes to attach to my wrist."

He blinked his yellow eyes at me several times, then tilted his head slightly, the way he always did when something quite literally did not compute. "Query," he asked. "Kid...leash?"

"It's a thing exasperated parents use with hyperactive children. You put one end around your wrist and another around the kid's so they can be mobile but not able to go too far."

"That would seem a simple, yet effective solution to a common problem," he said. "But if you are too old for a babysitter," he pointed out, "you are certainly too old for a kid-leash."

"That was sort of the point, Data." It came out more sharply than I'd intended. I waited a beat then added a soft. "Sorry."

"There is no need to apologize, Zoe. I am aware that you are annoyed with your mother, and merely directing your annoyance toward me."

"Have I mentioned lately that your habit of being right all the time is kind of frustrating?"

Data's response was as calm and measured as ever, but it still changed the entire tenor of our conversation. "In the last three months, two weeks, four days, and seventeen point six hours you have not 'mentioned' anything of import to me at all."

"That's not true," I started to argue, but I had to admit, it kind of was. I'd picked a fight with him almost four months ago, about a week before I quit his class and killed my cello. "I've talked to you."

"Shall I repeat every word that you have spoken to me since we left the _Enterprise_?" he asked, and I swear it sounded as if he was hurt - or even a little angry - at my recent behavior. "It will not take long."

There were any number of responses I could have made, but the dirtside waiting area of a major spaceport wasn't the appropriate venue, so I opted to excuse myself to the restroom. "I'll be right back," I said.

It's really wrong when the toilets in a spaceport bathroom are more comfortable than the chairs in the waiting area. It's equally wrong that the only words I'd spoken on our shuttle trip - the seventeen point whatever hours in his list - to a man who had never been anything but kind to me - who even counted me as a _friend_ and not just his student - were polite greetings and monosyllabic confirmations that I was comfortable.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and resolved to apologize to him and explain, but I still lingered for the space of three holiday played over the sound system. One was a classic Christmas Carol, one was about seasons in the sand on Risa, and the last one was an instrumental piece that I'm pretty sure my father had composed.

When I got back to our seats my father had arrived, and that he and Data were standing and chatting.

"Hey, Dad," I greeted. "Love the jacket." It was red, and suede, and swirled like a cape. "Very seasonal."

"Ho, ho, merry, merry," he replied, and pulled me into a one-armed hug. His other hand was holding my flight-bag. "Sorry for the delay; Gia was napping and I didn't want to leave til she was awake."

"Is she doing okay?" I asked. "I thought she was ready to pop." I saw a confused expression cross Data's face and explained before he could ask, "Gia is very, _very_ pregnant."

"Congratulations on the impending arrival of your son or daughter," Data said.

"Thank you," my father answered. "She's got another month or so, and she's tired a lot, but she's fine." He went on, then, continuing a conversation that had obviously begun before I'd returned. "So, Commander, you'll join us at the house after your conference? You know the address?"

"I will be there," Data agreed just before he turned away. "Merry Christmas, Maestro, Zoe."

"Merry Christmas," I murmured by way of a farewell, forgetting to add, "And thank you for the lift," until my father nudged me.

My father waited as I watched Data walk back through the security checkpoint. I waited for him to be out of site - and out of hearing range - before I asked, "Why would he need our address?"

"His conference ends before your vacation. I invited him to spend the last few days at the house."

"With us?"

"Is that a problem?" He turned toward the doors and I followed, listening as he said, "For the last year and a half, you've spoken almost constantly of this man. 'He's the most awesome teacher, Dad. He makes theory _so_ easy. My playing has improved so much…"

"Dad…"

"Then I hear that you threw a cello at him while your mother was on an away mission. That's not like you, Zo'."

"Stuff happened," I said. "He sent her on that mission. And she was hurt. And then she was late. And then I got pissed."

"You _know_ he didn't mean for her to be injured."

"Yeah."

"You know he's given up hours of his time for you."

I sighed. My father's new relationship had turned him from a best friend with slight authority-figure overtones to a full-on parent. "It's more complicated than that."

"Is it? Because I'd hate to think that my beautiful, talented daughter was unleashing her inner bitch for no good reason."

"Dad!"

"Zoe!" He mimicked my shocked tone. "We've never had a typical father-daughter relationship, kiddo. We've always been honest with each other, yes?"

"Mostly," I conceded.

"Your mom is worried. She says you've been withdrawn and sullen, and even a little mean since you broke up with that boy."

"T'vek, Dad. His name is T'vek."

"And?"

I could see my father's obnoxious green flitter ahead of us in the parking bay, and considered stalling until we were inside, but if he was going to yell at me, I'd rather not be in close quarters. "He left."

"His parents were transferred. You know that's part of the job of a Starfleet officer. Your mother's been through it enough times."

"I know, but - "

"But what? Did Commander Data send them away?"

"Well, he cut the orders, but - "

This was apparently going to be a conversation where I never got to finish a sentence. "But, what?" my father interrupted. "You can't seriously be blaming the man for doing his job?"

"Yeah, Dad. That's _exactly_ the problem," I snarked.

"Would you mind just telling me what's going on? Zoe, I can't help if you don't talk to me." He opened the boot of the flitter and tossed in my bag, leaving me to slide into the passenger seat. Once he was behind the controls, he softened his tone, trying another tack: "If you tell me, I'll let you drive once we're out of the port authority zone."

"Wow, Dad, I'm only with you for fifteen minutes, and already the bribery begins."

"Did it work?" he asked, the trace of a smile peeking through his otherwise-stern expression. We lifted off and headed away from the parking area.

I sighed. "It's like this. I get dragged to this starship when I was perfectly happy at the arts academy here. Then I meet the one boy there who isn't a hopeless mess or an officer wannabe, and things are really good - I mean _really _good. And then we had sex, and then he _left._" I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I spoke, and my speech got faster and faster.

If the flitter had been in ground mode, there would have been a screeching stop. As it was, my father merely choked out, "Autopilot: engage."

"You and mom had a long distance relationship for years, Dad. I thought…I really thought T'vek and I would last longer…"

"At sixteen, you thought you'd find the love of your life?" I couldn't tell if he was angry or concerned. Probably, he was both. "And what are you doing having sex with anyone at your age? Does your mother know? Did he force you? You're not pregnant are you?"

I waited, forcing a few calming breaths before I responded. "No, Dad. I just thought it would last longer than the week after my birthday, you know." I tried to keep my voice controlled, but I could hear the shakiness of it. "And no, he didn't force me. And, God, Dad, I'm not _stupid_. We used _protection._"

He, too, needed to breathe before he could speak again. I looked away from him, out the viewport. The day was deepening into twilight and the twinkle of holiday lights was visible on a lot of the houses.

"Does your mother know?" he asked again.

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"Zoe.."

"I really don't. I mean, I think she might suspect, but I haven't come out and told her, or anything."

"No, you save that for me."

I shrugged. "You're less likely to march me down to a counselor for professional help," I pointed out. "And when you yell at me, it's louder, but it blows over faster."

He rolled his eyes at me, and shook his head. "Crazy," he said. "You are so delightfully crazy."

I perked up. "Delightfully?" I asked.

"Deliciously," he responded.

"Defiantly," I said, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed a real smile to emerge on my own face.

"About Data, though…?"

"Oh. That." But it wasn't hard to talk about it now. "So, we've been doing these Saturday morning sessions almost every week, and I guess for a guy with no emotions he's gotten pretty good at recognizing when someone he spends a lot of time with is having a bad time. Did you know that android patience goes beyond forever?"

"Does it?" my father smirked. "Wonder if he could bottle it?"

"Dad…!" But I wasn't really protesting. "Maybe you could ask him. Anyway, he kept 'reminding me' that he was 'willing to listen' if I needed 'an ear.'" I could hear myself falling into my tutor/friend/confidante's speech patterns.

"And you blew up at him." He stated it; he didn't ask.

"Kind of, yeah. But…Dad, he was being so frustratingly, awesomely, _nice._"

My father gave me a look that telegraphed both amusement and unconditional love.

"I guess I owe him a major apology," I said. "And about four months of back homework."

"Will he let you back into his class?"

"I honestly don't know," I admitted. "But I think he'll appreciate the gesture."

**II**

For as long as I could remember, my father has thrown a major blow-out party on the last night of the year. The calendar on Centaurus doesn't always match up exactly with the one from Earth, but most years it was close enough. This year, it was New Year's Eve on both planets, which meant an even bigger party than usual. Or maybe it was that my father was anxious about his second child being born and needed to channel that energy into something creative.

Either way, anyone around the house risked getting pressed into service and I was no exception. Neither, apparently, was Commander Data, who - true to his word - had arrived at the Harris house the morning before the big day.

"Data! You're here!" I bounced on my toes when I met him at the door, his arrival finding me both on my way out, and unable to contain my own nervous energy. "I'm really glad you came," I said, and I met his eyes when I said it.

"Greetings, Zoe," he said, the way he typically did. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Better than that, even. But right now I have to run into town to pick up the sparklers for tomorrow night. Wanna come?" I dangled the starter fob for my new flitter, my Christmas gift from Dad, in front of him. "I'll show you your room first, and stuff."

"Your father has already tasked me with the arrangement of the tables," Data said. "Or I would accompany you. May I offer belated congratulations on passing the test?"

"Thanks," I said, turning around. "Follow me, and you can leave your bag. I can't believe he gave you a job before you even got here."

"Your father is remarkably efficient," Data observed.

I led him up the two flights of stairs to the guest wing - it was a very large, very old (well, old for a colony world) house - and showed him the room we'd chosen for him. "It shares a bath with the room next door," I explained. "But no one's using it this year…at least not tonight. Sometimes people crash here if the party gets too intense, or goes too late."

"I am certain it is adequate," he said.

"Towels are in the closet, extra bathrobes and stuff, too." My father often rented the house to vacationers when he was away on tour. "Kitchen's on the ground floor in the east wing, below the family quarters. Tonight's pretty casual - we usually do pizza and movies in the living room for whoever's here."

"Noted," he said.

I was babbling because it was weird having him here. Good-weird, but still weird. A chime on my pocket communicator reminded me of my appointment in town. "Gotta book," I breezed. I turned to go, and then paused and turned back. "Data," I said. "I know I've been kind of a bitch for the last four months, and I don't know why you didn't throw me out an airlock or something, but I really _am_ glad you're here." Then I left, without waiting for a response.

I didn't see him again until late that evening, long after the pizza had been consumed and we'd watched remastered-for-tri-d versions of both _Casablanca_ - my father's favorite - and _Clue_, which had been my choice. Of course, Data had merely sampled the different flavors - pineapple and sausage, mushroom and olive, fried _gagh_ worms and spam, though the last was a hormone-induced combination invented by Gia.

It was long past midnight, and I'd all but given up on sleep. I'd been thinking, for over a week, about the apology I had to make, and I wanted to get it over with before my father's party. Still wearing the t-shirt and jeans I'd put on that morning, but barefoot, I grabbed my padd, left my room and headed down the hall to the guest wing. There were three bedrooms on that side of the hall, and only one was currently in use, light shining from the crack beneath the door.

I knocked softly, knowing Data would hear, and he came to the door. "Zoe," he said. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," I said. "And no."

"I do not understand."

"Can you come to the kitchen with me? I need to talk to you and that requires tea, and a neutral setting."

"One moment." He disappeared into the bedroom, and returned wearing a bathrobe - more a dressing gown really, and holding a small, square package.

"Basil Rathbone, much?" I asked, referring to his attire.

"Ah! You recognize the garb of the Great Detective!" One of Data's rare 'natural' smiles lit up his features. "I was not aware you were a fan."

"I like the stories," I said, as I led him down the back stairs, through the butler's pantry, and into the kitchen. "Not so much a fan of Basil Rathbone's portrayal. If you're into old-school, I think Jeremy Brett was much better. More recently, G'mer the Elder's interpretation is pretty compelling. Dad took me to see him perform Holmes as a one-man show a couple years ago."

We continued the light conversation as I busied myself in the kitchen, boiling water in an antique kettle that my grandmother loved, and spooning loose tea into a tea press. "Do you mind spearmint?" I asked. "It's softer than peppermint, great for before-bed sipping."

"I will be happy to sample it."

I brought the teapot, honey, cups and spoons to the kitchen table, and sat in my usual spot, facing out into the back yard. Our house was on a bluff overlooking the ocean, and even though I couldn't see the waves in the dark, I could catch the sound of the surf if I strained. "Join me?" I invited. And he did.

For a time, we sat in silence, just sipping the tea. Mint always made me feel better - more focused, more confident - and I let this blend work its magic, but then came Data's gentle reminder, "You said that you wished to talk."

"I wanted to apologize for the way I've been acting, and the way I treated you," I said. "I could give you the whole explanation for it, but it's easier to just say that I was childish and stupid, and I took advantage of who and what you are, and it would mean a lot if you would forgive me."

"I have observed that humans, especially those in their adolescent stages, are often irrational. Research suggests that this is due to a combination of hormone imbalance and literal 'growing pains.'"

"So, is that a yes or a no?" I asked.

"There is nothing for me to forgive, Zoe. I cannot empathize with your situation, but I believe I can understand the reason you directed your anger toward me. I believe the appropriate response would be 'that is what friends are for.'"

His hand was resting on the surface of the table, and I darted my own out to squeeze it quickly. "Thank you," I said. "I can't honestly say I missed your math class, but I've missed spending Saturday mornings with you."

"I had grown to anticipate our 'Saturday sessions' as well," he said, using a phrase I'd coined. "Do you wish to resume them?"

"Yes and no," I said, but I added before he could claim non-comprehension. "I wish to propose an alternate plan."

His head tilt, this time, meant that his curiosity had been piqued. "Please explain?"

I slid my padd toward him. "My mother will insist that I complete the year in your tutorial, if you'll have me back," I said. "I spent a good chunk of my vacation catching up on assignments - Dana and Wes gave me their notes - so, there's that."

"I will have to review your work," he said, keying in the sequence of commands that would send my files to his account. "However, I see no reason to deny your return." He paused, catching my gaze and holding it with his own. "I am available if you require assistance."

I nodded. "Okay," I said. "That's part one."

"There is a part two?"

"And a three. And maybe a four, but that's down the road a ways."

"Go on."

"I've been studying all the music theory stuff we were working on before I blew up at you. I think I'm ready for the final exam. Can I have my padd back?" He nodded and returned it to me. "I want you to give me the final, and then, if you're willing I want you to help me with this." I entered a couple of commands, then slid the padd back to him again.

"This is an open audition for the all-Federation youth orchestra," he said after scanning the document I'd shared.

"It's five weeks from now," I said. "Which is likely forever for _you_, but not so much for me. Will you coach me?"

"I would be honored to assist you in any way I can," he said, "though I am not certain what 'coaching' you require."

"I have to pick two pieces to play. One has to be technical, one has to convey emotion. I have to have them memorized." I looked down at the table a bit sheepishly. "We both know I only practice if I have someone to be accountable to."

"That does seem to be so," he agreed.

I grinned. "Two down. Okay, part three...a belated Christmas present. That's on the padd, as well." I turned it back toward me one more time, and brought up the file in question. "You don't have very many photos - flat or holo. I guess maybe you don't need them to remember, but Wes sent me this when he sent the notes."

"This is from your recital. Thank you, Zoe."

"It's us. I tweaked the background a little, enhanced the contrast, but…it's us. I was so nervous that night. I didn't want to disappoint you."

"You did not," he assured. "I didn't have time to wonder if he meant that he _couldn't _ be disappointed or something else, because he presented me with the small box I'd seen him carrying earlier. "I also have a gift for you."

"You don't even celebrate Christmas," I said. "You spent the holiday at a conference on a world where Christmas isn't even a thing."

"But as we have established, we are friends, and friends honor each other's traditions, do they not?"

"Well, yes."

"There was a vintage clothing store across the street from the conference center. This was in the window, and I recalled your growing collection of similar items. Please open it."

I did as I was told, removing the lid and parting the lime green tissue paper to reveal a bundle of white cotton. "You bought me a t-shirt?" I asked. "Seriously."

"I was assured it was not 'just any' t-shirt," he said.

I unfolded it, and turned it so I could see the logo and writing on it. " 'Hard Rock Café - Shi'Kahr,'" I read. "They were only open for two years. This is rare in the extreme!" Impulsively, I rose from my chair to hug him. "Data, thank you! I can't wait to wear it!"

His arms were stiff and awkward at first, and he stayed seated, but he returned my hug. "I am pleased that you approve," he said.

He caught me yawning not long after I'd returned to my chair and quietly suggested that I go get some sleep. Wisely, I chose not to argue.

**III**

The party was as spectacular as I expected, and then some. It started with nibbles and mingling, but almost all of my father and Gia's friends are musicians, so it was inevitable that a jam session would break out.

At one point, someone gave Data a clarinet, and he did a credible job on a jazz piece, despite the fact that improvised syncopation is really not his area of expertise. He gave the instrument back to its rightful owner just in time for me to corner him.

"Having fun?" I asked.

"It is an interesting confluence of events," he observed. "I am afraid I have much to learn about jazz, however."

"You have to let go a little, to play it right," I said. "Dad's all about classical, but jazz is his playtime." Someone bumped into me, and I realized it was Gia, dancing very delicately with one of the flautists from the music school. I grinned at her, then turned back to Data. "Once the dancing's started all is right with the world."

"My daughter is right, Mr. Data," my father said, coming to join us. "May I borrow her from you - it's likely one of the last times she'll be willing to dance with her old man."

"You're not that old," I told my father, as he whirled me onto the dance floor, which was really the living room with all the furniture pushed back.

"No? Then why is my daughter practically a young woman."

"Magic?" I suggested. "Or time travel. Personally, I wish I were older."

"Because of a certain Starfleet officer whose circuits might just melt if he understood what you really feel for him?" The question was uttered in a teasing tone.

"Dad!" I protested. "He's my…" but I couldn't finish that sentence with 'tutor' the way I usually did. "…friend."

He kissed my forehead. "Don't be in such a rush to grow up, my Zoetrope. If he's half the man he seems to be, he'll wait til the time is right." I blushed, but he just laughed his musical laugh at me. "Of course, he's probably not quite ready either."

"He's a billion years older than me. And an officer. And…" I didn't finish the thought. "And I'm just some girl who forgets he's in charge, a lot, and kind of thinks he's amazing."

"As amazing as your dad?"

I laughed. "Sometimes," I said.

The song ended, and the band switched to a slower tempo. Dad went off to find Gia, and I found myself watching Data dance with one of my second cousins. He'd worn his dress uniform, and if he wasn't exactly the handsomest man at this party, he was certainly the most striking.

I snagged a glass of laced eggnog from a serving tray, and took a healthy swallow, feeling the alcohol make warmth flow all through me. Dad never served the fake stuff. I threaded my way back toward Data just as the song was ending.

"Zoe! Your math tutor is an excellent dancer," my cousin informed me.

I grinned at her. "Preaching to the choir 'Nessa." To Data, I simply said, "My turn." I passed my glass to Vanessa, who walked away smiling. "I mean, if you don't mind?" I backpedaled.

I'd danced with him before, on the _Enterprise, _and now, as then, he simply guided me into the proper position, leading me in time to the tune that wasn't quite slow enough to be romantic, but wasn't exactly fast, either. "You are unusually quiet tonight," he observed, applying enough pressure to my waist to indicate the direction of our next turn.

"Stayed up too late chatting with a really good friend," I teased. "And…I don't know, it's weird being home without Mom, with Gia here, with _you_ here. My father likes you, by the way."

"He is an excellent musician and a gracious host," Data said.

"He also has excellent taste in houseguests. Dressed the way you are, how have you not been fending every woman here off with a stick?"

He indicated another turn, this time under his arm. I'd had years of ballet and tap, but ballroom was still very new to me. "Step, step, change," he whispered very softly, before raising his voice ever so slightly to answer me. "When your father initially proposed that I join your family for this celebration, he issued the invitation on your behalf."

It was my turn to tilt my head in confusion. "So…you're here as _my _guest? I didn't realize. But then…he didn't know I'd been such a bitch."

"Language, Zoe," he said, but he'd managed to soften it into a sort of teasing tone.

"I'm so spending the shuttle ride home swabbing decks aren't I?"

But Data didn't revert to our usual game of 'playing pirates.' He simply observed, "I have never known you to refer to the _Enterprise_ as home."

"I've had a lot of time to think, what with not-talking to you for a month, and being here for two weeks and all. I guess I decided that home isn't so much a place as a state of mind." I shrugged. "I'm incredibly lucky, you know. Some people don't have any home. I have two."

The song ended, but we didn't move very far apart because it was almost midnight, and the servers were passing out sparklers. The band went silent, and my father gestured to the keyboard player for a chingaring.

"Beloved family and friends," he said. "Shall we count down?"

"Do you know this tradition?" I asked Data very quietly. "Ten seconds out, they light the first sparkler. You pass the flame around the room, and exchange a kiss with whoever you're close to."

"Fifteen…" my father began, joined by more voices with every passing second. "Thirteen…eleven…ten..."

Someone clicked the lights off, but I heard the sizzle as the first sparkler caught fire, and watched as the tiny flickers of light began to traverse the room, from person to person.

"Seven…six…"

It was Gia, who passed the flame to me, kissing me on the cheek, and whispering that she was glad I'd come to spend the holidays.

"Five…four…"

I turned to Data who bent his sparkler to mine. He was the end of the circuit. I stared at him, at the way his eyes seemed to glow in the heat of the flame, and I hesitated, realizing that the way I _wanted _to kiss him and the way I _could _kiss him were vastly different. Standing on tiptoe, I brushed a kiss across his cheek. "Happy New Year, Data," I whispered in his ear. "Welcome to our family."

The lights came back on as my father started singing "Auld Lang Syne," and we all joined in on the first chorus.

_And there's a hand my trusty __friend__ !  
And __give me__ a hand o' thine !  
And we'll __take__ a right __good-will draught__,  
for auld lang syne._

* * *

**Notes: **"Auld Lang Syne" comes in many versions. The version we're most familiar with was 'collected' by Robert Burns.


	2. What Are You Doing New Year's Eve

**Saturday, December 30th, 2372, San Francisco, Earth**

**(Roughly a year after _Generations, _and a year before _First_ _Contact._)**

_When the bells all ring and the horns all blow  
And the couples we know are fondly kissing.  
Will I be with you or will I be among the missing?_

_Maybe it's much too early in the game_  
_Ooh, but I thought I'd ask you just the same_  
_What are you doing New Year's_  
_New Year's eve?_

**I**

The rain-slick pavement was made more treacherous because of the boots I was wearing, not the sensible Starfleet-issue, flats of the man I was walking with, but a pair of black, suede calf-high fashion boots with heels that hadn't seemed quite so spindly in the store. Fortunately, my companion was holding my arm with a grip that felt gentle, but that I knew was strong enough to keep me from any harm.

"Perhaps you should reconsider your choice of footwear in the future," he observed, and while there was a hint of wryness in his tone, there was also concern. "Were I not with you, you would have likely sprained one or both ankles."

The fact that, a year before, the same statement would have been made with no emotional nuance whatsoever, was not lost on me. For a moment I stopped walking. "Really, Data," I teased, "that chip in your head has turned you positively obsessive about my footwear. Is there something I should know?"

He got the joke, such as it was, but answered seriously, "It is not the footwear that concerns me, but the woman wearing it."

A year ago, he wouldn't have said _that_ either.

Of course, a year ago we hadn't been more than close friends, and now we'd been dating since spring, him coming to New Haven to see me at school - I was a semester away from finishing my undergraduate degree at Yale - me meeting him at one of the dirtside restaurants at New York or San Francisco SpacePort as often as I could. Everything was easier when he was aboard the new _Enterprise_, the _E_ this time, getting her ready for warp trials and then another extended mission, and more difficult when he was off on short-term assignments, but we had been getting better and better about making it work.

"I love it when you say things like that," I said, smiling. I stretched up to kiss him, not caring that were in the middle of the sidewalk, or that we were supposed to be meeting people for dinner. "I love this, too."

Public displays of affection had been a new experience for him, and I'd asked him more than once if he objected. He always said he did not, within limits. So, no snogging in the corridors of the ship, obviously, but when he was on leave, and the city was still dressed in Christmas finery? All bets were off.

"I enjoy this as well," he said softly, returning my kiss. "But we will be late if we continue."

"Spoilsport," I grumbled good-naturedly. But I added, "Okay, let's go."

**(=====)**

The restaurant, when we got there, was dimly lit and abuzz with many conversations. The clientele, I noticed, was mostly humanoid, and only about a third were wearing Starfleet uniforms. I'd noticed that fewer uniforms generally meant better, or at least more expensive, food.

Some of the friends we were meeting had already arrived, though - sidewalk smooching notwithstanding - we were not actually late. Data would never have allowed it.

"Zoe, it's good to see you," Deanna Troi stepped away from Will Riker to come and hug me. "I'm so glad you're joining us tonight."

"Thank you," I said. "You look amazing," and she did, in a deep blue dress that skimmed her figure before ending in a full, if mid-length, skirt. I was wearing classic black, but even if I'd been dressed to the nines, she'd have made me feel plain.

"Thank you," she said. She released me but Riker was next, with one of his signature bear hugs.

"Hey, breathing is kind of important," I said, but I returned the hug, laughing.

"Not often I get to hug college girls any more - ow!" Deanna had punched him in the arm. "How _is_ school? You're in the home stretch, aren't you?"

"Yes, I confirmed, returning to Data's side."Classes don't start again 'til February, but we start rehearsals for _The Crucible_ on the ninth, so I'll be there for intersession. I've been contacting agents, so it's likely I'll be going on auditions, too. Who else are we waiting for?"

"Just Geordi," Data said.

"Actually Beverly said she and the captain might join us," Deanna corrected. "Look, there they are!"

We all turned toward the door, and sure enough, there was the one and only Captain Picard, with Dr. Crusher at his side. Both were dressed in normal street clothes, which meant Data was the only one in uniform tonight. "Data, remind me to take you shopping sometime soon. You really need some decent civvies." I made sure only he could hear.

"As you wish," he said. It was his way of letting me know he would indulge one of my whims, despite not being totally supportive of it.

There was more hugging and the captain favored me with the European tradition of kisses to both cheeks, and then the server was leading us to our table, a round one in the back, near the fireplace. Geordi was running late, apparently, and Will and Deanna had theater tickets, so we didn't wait to order.

"Zoe, you've been here before, haven't you?" Beverly asked me, "Data said you were here last week?"

I nodded. "We come every year on Christmas Eve…well, every year since Mom and Ed have been together. Family tradition. The _ravioli de zucco_ is very good, by the way, if you want something meatless. They use butternut squash in the filling and serve it with a butter and sage sauce that's to die for."

"That sounds delicious," Deanna observed.

"It is," I assured. "It's actually my favorite thing here, but nothing is really bad."

"Is that what you are ordering tonight?" Data asked.

"That depends. Are you ordering a meal, or do you just want to share what I have?" Dinner dates with a man who didn't actually _have_ to eat could be challenging, and we'd found that ordering one entrée and sharing it was often beneficial to us both. He got to both taste new things and blend in with the crowd, and I got to justify my love of dessert by not eating whole portions. It was win-win. "If we're sharing," I said, "then I'll either get that or the _aglio e olio_. If not, I'm having the rosemary chicken." That choice was another of our unwritten agreements, as Data did not eat meat.

"Are you sure you've only been dating for six months?" Geordi LaForge arrived, still in uniform, with that question on his lips. He touched my shoulder on his way to drop into the open seat on the other side of Data.

"Actually," Data said, "it has been six months, twenty-eight days, and twenty-two point three hours since our relationship officially changed. Why do you ask?"

"Because you act married." He was smiling when he said it.

"We do not," I protested.

"Yes, actually, you do," Captain Picard declared, surprising us all. "I never thought I'd see Data come to this point." His tone wasn't one that I could read, and a scan of the faces of those who knew him told me they were perplexed as well. "I have only one thing to say on the matter. Mr. Data, my friend, if you let this young woman go, I will personally deactivate you. Now, who wants wine? I'm buying."

Stunned shock gave way to happy laughter, and Picard, who was sitting on the other side of me, touched my hand. "Zoe," he said softly, "you and I don't know each other very well yet, but I can see why Data is so fond of you."

I wasn't entirely certain, but I think it was his way of giving us his approval, so I just answered with the only thing I could think of. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot."

Dinner became considerably looser after that - Data and I _did_ end up sharing the squash ravioli - and Captain Picard did buy wine - a bottle each of a local chardonnay and a French syrah from a winery owned by a friend of his. Data chose the former and seemed surprised when I didn't.

"I was under the impression that white wine was the preferred choice with meatless dishes," he said.

"It depends on the dish," the captain and I said together.

"With a sweet dish, a dry wine is better," Picard continued. "And vice versa, but sometimes a spicy red will bring out the flavor in something like squash better than the white."

"A friend of mine from school worked as a sommelier in his parents' restaurant over the summers," I added. "He said that while the red with meat and heavy pasta, white with fish, and lighter fare is a good guideline, it really comes down to 'drink what you like as long as the flavors don't clash.'"

"What do you recommend with the rosemary chicken, then," asked Riker, who wasn't a particular wine fan.

I glanced at the captain to see if he would answer, but he deferred to me. "Beer," I told him. "As long as it's a micro-brew, or hard cider. They have a pear cider here that goes amazingly well with that chicken."

"_How_ old are you, exactly?" he teased.

I just grinned, and said "Old enough to know that if you don't order dessert in the next ten minutes you and Deanna won't make curtain. What are you seeing anyway?"

"_Fog City Blues_," Deanna said. "Do you know it?"

"Better than. The male lead was two years ahead of me at Yale; we had an improv class together when I was a freshman, and did a play together my sophomore year. It's at the Orpheum, isn't it? Where are you sitting? Can I see your tickets?"

With a somewhat confused expression, Will Riker handed me the data-card with his tickets on it.

"Mm. Upper orchestra. You're not too far from center, which is good, but for this show, you're kinda far back. May I borrow these for a minute?" I reached into the evening bag I'd slung on the back of my chair, and pulled my personal communicator out, "Sorry, I know it's completely tacky to do this during dinner, but you'll appreciate it, I promise." I scrolled through my contact list until I found the one I was looking for, and keyed in the code to connect.

_"You're live with Marco. Talk fast." _

The voice from the speaker was tinny, but I wanted everyone to hear. Fortunately, the closest tables were empty by now. "Marco-sweety, wanna do a fellow Yalie a huge favor?"

_"Oh my god, Zoificus. Haven't you graduated yet? Are you in town?" _

"That's goddess to you, hon." I said. "And the answers to your other questions are 'not til May' and 'Yes.' If I promise to take you to breakfast before I head back to campus, will you work some VIP magic for me?"

_"For you, Zoe, anything. Whatcha need?"_

"Friends of mine have tickets for tonight's performance. I know it's totally last-minute, but they're in X-10 and X-11 and they really need something in the six-sixteen zone. Preferably center aisle if you can wrangle it."

_"Oh, sister, you know I can…hang on."_ He was silent for a few minutes, then came back, _"I need a name for will-call," he said, "but if they bring their existing d-card they can swap those seats for J-1 and J-2 and collect vouchers for complimentary champagne."_

I muted the connection to glance up at Will, "Is that cool with you? I mean, your existing seats weren't bad…" But he was laughing silently - so was Geordi, actually. "Perfect, hon, thank you. And the name you need is William T. Riker. Be nice to him, he ranks my SO."

_"Oooh, super nice. Let me know when you wanna do brunch - we're dark Mondays. And you better come see the show before you blow."_

"I'll try," I promised. "My schedule's kind of insane right now."

_"Senior year? I bet it is. Okay, hon. See you soon. Love ya! Mean it!" _

I put the com unit away and returned the data card to Will. "Let me know if the show's any good?" I asked.

It was Beverly who said what, apparently, everyone was thinking, "What did you just do?"

I shrugged. "Theater snobbery. Never sit closer than row six or farther back than row sixteen. And you can't tell me fellow officers don't do favors for each other when you can - switching duty shifts, and such -"

"She is correct," Data confirmed. "We are just not accustomed to Zoe being the person with connections."

Geordi summed it up best though, "Damn, I wish I had your connections when I needed spare parts."

We had coffee and dessert and then began the process of leave-taking, and the divvying of the bill. Will and Deanna headed out to see the play, and the Captain and Doctor Crusher went off to wherever they were going. They'd mentioned dancing but I hadn't been listening that closely, and to ask seemed like prying. "Zoe," Beverly said as they were leaving, "we'll see you tomorrow, won't we?"

"Tomorrow's New Year's Eve," I said. "Is there something else going on?"

"Ask Data," she said, a wicked smile on her face. "And don't let him tell you it's a surprise."

I turned to the man in question, waiting for a pause in his conversation with Geordi. "I need to use the restroom," I said. "You have that long to figure out what to tell me about why Beverly thinks I'll be seeing everyone tomorrow, and bear in mind that your answer will absolutely determine exactly how much shopping I'll be subjecting you to." I kissed him lightly on the lips and went to the back of the restaurant, where the facilities were located.

Of the three stalls, only one was empty, which was typical. What was not typical was the conversation I overhead while paying attention to other things:

- _Did you see that 'droid? Flaunting its friendship with humans, even sharing a plate with that girl?!_

_- - Who is the girl, anyway? I recognized the rest of the group - the blind dude is the engineer on the Enterprise and the rest of them were all officers, too…but the girl…she looks vaguely familiar._

_- I snapped her picture. We'll do an identity match later._

_- Thomas said it was kissing her outside. How sick do you have to be to let a machine kiss you? Do you think she's sleeping with it? _

_- I miss the old days, when humans were the only people in town…you about done?_

Under normal circumstances, I'd have burst out of the stall, and had words with those two women, but I was a little rocked by the realization that they were talking about Data and me. As well, a one-against-two confrontation in the bathroom wasn't really on my to-do list for…ever. I heard one flush, and then two, followed by hand-washing, and finally, the clacking of heels and the door opening and closing. I'm sure they were still talking, but I was no longer able to hear anything except my own rage boiling inside my head. Still, I waited another five minutes after I finished my business before leaving the stall, washing my own hands, and walking out of the room.

Data was waiting for me when I got back, but Geordi had disappeared.

"I know I took long," I said, "But I didn't think it was long enough to drive Geordi away?"

"You did not," he said. "Geordi is involved in a crucial engineering problem. He was needed back on the _Enterprise._"

I nodded. "Oh, okay. Can we go now?" I brushed by him, and out to the sidewalk, where I resisted - barely - the urge to gulp the rain-freshened night air.

The problem with dating someone who's known you since you were fifteen is that they can always tell when something isn't right. When that person is also also hyper-observant, there's no way you can hide being upset. I wasn't surprised, when Data moved in front of me so that I had to look at him. "Zoe, something is troubling you. What is wrong?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to talk about it…not here, I mean. It's probably just me overreacting, anyway." I slipped my hand into his, as we began the walk back to where his shuttle was parked (the _Enterprise's_ transporters were down for testing, and personal transporting was frowned upon). "I know we'd talked about that open-mic night, but…" I let the sentence trail off, then restarted it. "I don't want to miss out on time with you, and I know you scheduled the night off specially, but I'd really rather just go back to the house and curl up on a couch."

"The doctor was correct in that there is a special event on the ship tomorrow," Data said. "I had thought to invite you to come back to the _Enterprise _with me. As you know, there is a couch in my quarters."

I smiled. "Yes," I said. "I know. If I wouldn't be in the way, and if we can stop by the house so I can pack a few things, I'd love to spend the weekend."

He smiled, then, the smile that I'd glimpsed now and again during my time living on the ship, only _more_. "You are never in the way."

* * *

**II**

"Are you ready, now, to tell me what upset you at the restaurant?" Data asked. We were sitting on the couch in his quarters, and I was sipping lemon-mint tea. As soon as we'd arrived, I'd commandeered his bathroom to wash off my makeup, twist my hair into a messy knot, and change into a comfortably-worn Yale t-shirt and a pair of faded blue sweatpants, so it wasn't as if I hadn't had time to settle.

"I probably really was overreacting," I said. "The women's room had three cubicles, and two were already occupied. On a Saturday night, that's not all that unusual. They were in the middle of a conversation, but, again, that's pretty typical. But the conversation was about us, and while it might have just been gossip, something about it creeped me out."

To his credit, he didn't react to the phrase 'creeped me out.' Instead, he adjusted his position on the couch, so that his arm was around me. "I have observed," Data said quietly, "that when tea and soft lighting does not help you to talk to me, physical contact does."

"So, this is a carefully studied technique for eliciting confessionals from me? It brings a whole new dimension to 'Ve haf vays of makink you talk.'" I was teasing, but I also moved into the curve of his arm as I said it. "I like it here," I added softly.

"I 'like it here' as well," he said. "But you are avoiding the subject at hand."

"Brain the size of a planet and he uses it to be a noodge," I complained to the ceiling, "Okay, okay. Either they didn't hear me come in, or they didn't care, because they were in the middle of a conversation about us. All of us - they knew who you all were, though they also said they didn't recognize me." I hesitated.

"Please continue."

"I am. They mentioned that someone named Thomas had seen us kissing. They talked about how you were flaunting your friendships with humans. They said something about capturing my image for an identity match - can they do that?"

"Finding the name to go with any image is relatively easy," Data confirmed. "Your identity will be more easily discovered than most, as you are the daughter of a celebrity, and have appeared on the news-nets in your own right."

He must have been able to tell that I was confused by that statement. "I…have?"

"Reviews of your performances in various theatrical companies are archived."

I made a mental note to ask him exactly when he'd been reading about me, as well as what…and why. "I guess they would be," I allowed. "Anyway, they made rude comments about our relationship and then they clacked away."

"Clacked…?"

"They were wearing heels, and no, I don't know what kind. The cubicle walls go all the way to the floor there, even the doors. I didn't see them…I didn't really want to, honestly...I just heard."

Data was silent for a long time. Well, long for him, anyway. "Zoe," he began, in tones even more measured than usual. "You are aware that I have often faced such prejudice. You yourself are no stranger to gossip. Why is this particular incident bothering you so much?"

I stared into my tea cup, willing it to answer for me. It refused. "What they said…. Data, they kept calling you 'it.' They said only someone sick and twisted would have an intimate relationship with a machine." I paused, but he seemed to sense that I wasn't done yet. "Did you know," I continued softly, "that sometimes I forget you're an android?"

His tone, when he responded, was oddly neutral, "And the overheard conversation reminded you?"

"No!" It came out almost as a shout, but I took a couple of deep calming breaths and kept going. "I don't mean I literally forget, I just mean…when I look at you, when I'm with you…I don't see 'Data the android,' I just see 'Data the person' or, more recently, 'Data, the man I love.'"

I felt his arm tighten around me, heard the slight gulp of his reflexive swallow, and the sudden stillness when his breath ceased. "Zoe…" he began.

I cut him off. "Hearing them was like a slap in the face. It made me mad, but it made me feel like there was something wrong with me, because I look at you, and I just see…you."

He didn't say anything. He'd started breathing again, and his arm was still around me, but he was otherwise silent. Motionless. I pulled away from him so I could look at his face. Yellow tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, which were moving back and forth, the way they always did when he was processing something. "Data?" I asked gently. "Can you hear me?"

The REM flicker slowed, but didn't stop, and he nodded once.

"Are you okay? Do I need to call Geordi? You know I will if I have to."

A head-shake this time. Great, I was stuck in a game of charades, and I didn't even know what the clue was. I reached up to touch his face, to brush the tears away with my thumb. I remembered a time, a few years before, when I'd been upset over something and he'd done the same. Then it had been a friendly gesture. Now, it was definitely more. I resettled myself, my head against his chest, closed my eyes, and waited.

**(=====)**

Data's voice calling my name was the next thing I heard. "Zoe," he said softly, "please wake up."

We were still on the couch, still holding each other. "'m awake," I said. "Are you back in the world of the living?"

"Yes."

"And I didn't miss anything? No steam coming from your ears, none of your circuits melted." I never had a filter when I first woke up, even if it was only from a nap."

"I am…fully functional," he answered, though his voice seemed a bit pinched. Nervous.

"How long was I sleeping on you?"

"Fifty-seven minutes, thirteen seconds," he answered.

"You were crying." I said. "I didn't know you could."

"My eyes are lubricated by tears, as yours are," he reminded me gently. "But, yes, since activating the emotion chip, I have fund that I do cry as a response to certain emotional stimuli."

"Seems kind of unfair that I was the one who was upset, but you were the one who ended up crying. Am I allowed to ask why?"

"You are always 'allowed' to ask," he said. He dropped a chaste kiss on the top of my head.

"Data?"

"I am sorry if I caused you concern," he said softly. "I was not expecting a declaration."

"You mean that I love you?" I asked. "I didn't really mean to dump it on you like that. Is that what made you go all internal?"

"Yes," he said. "I was analyzing my reaction, considering our history, comparing heuristic responses…"

"You mean," I interrupted gently, "you were trying to figure out how you feel."

"Precisely."

I tensed, and started to pull away from him. Suddenly, I didn't want to know. Except at the same time, I did. I sat back so I could watch his face. "And?"

He took my hands in his, his thumbs making small circles over the pulse points on my wrists. "We have been friends for many years."

I wondered how much it cost him not to give months, days, and hours. "Yes," I said. "You accepted me as a friend pretty much from the beginning."

"You have observed more than once that I seem to 'get' you. Others have told both of us that we seem to have a special connection."

"True," I said. I wondered when - if - he would get to the point.

"The general consensus among my friends, when I shared that our relationship had evolved to one of a more romantic nature was that such as shift was inevitable."

"My family, and my friends who know you, said pretty much the same thing," I agreed.

"Since the day Geordi helped me install the emotion chip, I have catalogued nearly a million distinct emotional states," he said. "I believe I have identified what it means to feel friendship, loyalty, filial love…" he began. This time it was I who began to interrupt, and he who silenced me. "Until tonight, I had no certainty that I could feel romantic love," he continued. "Now I know, Zoe, that this is what I feel for you."

"In other words, you love me, too."

"I believe I just said that."

I stared at him for a long moment, and then moved again, this time to straddle his lap, facing him. His arms came around me, and I kissed him. "Have you," I asked, "catalogued what it's like when you feel desire?"

His eyes widened, "I have…not…yet…"

"Want to try?" I leaned my forehead against his.

"You are speaking of sexual intimacy," he said softly. "Are you certain?"

Six years of friendship, much of which was spent dancing toward more. Seven months of dating. We hadn't yet engaged in 'sexual intimacy,' as he called it, but it wasn't for lack of willingness, so much as lack of opportunity. Even with the _Enterprise_ at Spacedock, in geostationary orbit over Alaska, we hadn't had the time to be able to go there and not have to rush away first thing the next morning. I knew his history with one night stands. I knew one night was _not _what I wanted from him. All of this raced through my mind at, well, not quite android speed, but pretty quickly.

"Yes," I said. "I've never been more certain of anything else."

He met my kiss this time, with more ardor than I was accustomed to from him.

**(=====)**

I woke up alone in Data's bed. Well, not quite alone. Spot had appeared at some point while I slept, and was currently curled up in front of me, kneading my abdomen with her paws. "Watch it, catling," I told her softly, freeing my arm from the sheets so I could scratch her behind the ears. "Hit my bladder and we'll both regret it." Of course, that's exactly where her paws aimed next. "Spot!"

"Ah," I heard Data's voice say, probably from his workstation. "You are awake."

"Kind of," I said. "Could you come get your cat so I can use the bathroom?"

"Of course." He came, and lifted the orange tabby cat away from me. "Are you…alright?"

"Aside from feeling like I need more sleep, and having a desperate need to pee, I've never been better," I said lightly. I lifted the sheets, slid out of bed, and brushed by him to the bathroom. Once finished with my most urgent need, I splashed my face with water, and untangled the hair tie that had never been removed the night before, detangling my hair with my fingers before I returned to the main room.

"What time is it?" I asked as I climbed back into the bed.

"Zero-four-hundred hours," he replied. "If you are tired, you should rest more." He'd deposited Spot on the couch, and, I noticed, was dressed only in the pseudo-Victorian dressing gown I'd teased him about on another late night. "I know you don't sleep," I said, "but if you come back to bed for a bit, I'll make it worth your while."

"It has already been 'worth my while,'" he said softly, but his smile held more than a hint of seduction. He slid the robe off, and lifted the covers to join me.

I looked his nude body in the soft, indirect glow of computer displays, and couldn't help but blurt, "God, you're beautiful."

His response came as a whisper of his breath on my skin. "As are you," he said. "But I am not God, I am only Data."

"That's even better."

**(=====)**

A few hours later, the scent of coffee pulled me out of a deep and contented slumber, as did the sound of Data singing some ancient ballad I'd heard a couple of times before but didn't really know. Even so, hearing his voice made me smile. "Sing louder," I requested. "And tell me what I have to do to get some of the coffee I smell."

"I cannot do both at once," he said coming to the side of the bed. He'd already dressed in his duty uniform. "Coffee is on the table. I was uncertain about your breakfast preferences aside from that."

"Are you on duty today?" I asked, following that question immediately with, "Could you toss me my t-shirt?"

He did the latter while telling me, "I am due on the bridge at zero-eight hundred hours, which is in approximately seventeen minutes. If you wish to remain on board for the next eight hours, I will grant you access to the holodecks - two and three are online. You already have computer access, should you require it."

"Are the replicators online?"

"They are, with limited options. If you are hungry, I suggest you go to the lounge; Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher sent an invitation for you to join them for breakfast at zero nine hundred. "

I pulled my t-shirt on, while I asked, "Data, does the entire ship know I spent the night with you?"

"That is doubtful," he said. "While Deanna and Beverly are aware that you returned to the _Enterprise _with me last night, it is only because I contacted the counselor this morning that she knew you were still here."

"You got me a pity-invite to breakfast?" I wasn't sure if I should be annoyed or amused.

"No," he said softly. "The counselor sensed your upset last night, and was concerned. I explained what had happened." He hesitated then asked, "Do you regret our actions of last night and this morning?" I could see him fighting the desire to deactivate the emotion chip in case he didn't like my answer.

I slid out of bed and stood on tip-toe to kiss him. "The only thing I regret is that it took me being upset to help us take our relationship to the next level. We probably need to talk about what it means and where we go from here - I still have school to finish, and you still have your career - but aside from that? Data, I love you, and I'm looking forward to many repeat performances."

His arms came around me and held me for several seconds. "I love you also, Zoe," he said into my hair. Then he kissed me and reminded me of the time before he left for bridge duty.

I retrieved the coffee from the table and put it in the replicator tray to be reheated - Data had already specified the amount of milk I usually used - then took it back to bed with me. "Computer, time please?" I asked when I was finished. I was informed that I had forty-five minutes to get ready, but I also needed to know, "Computer, recognize Zoe Harris. Has Commander Data added me to the access lock on his quarters?"

The disembodied voice replying, "Affirmative," shouldn't have made me giggle, but somehow, it did.

* * *

**III**

Whether you referred to it by its old name, Ten-Forward, the name Commander Riker was currently lobbying for - The Happy Bottom Riding Club - or just 'the lounge,' the crew lounge of the _U.S.S. Enterprise _was the one place where everyone belonged, and literally anyone could see or be seen - or even hide in a corner if not being seen was their thing. Knowing this, I shouldn't have been at all trepidatious about entering. Nevertheless I spent a good five minutes dithering outside the doors, before finally gathering enough courage to face Beverly Crusher and Deanna Troi over the breakfast table.

They were, of course, already waiting for me.

"Zoe, I heard you had quite an eventful night," the doctor greeted warmly.

"Excuse me?" I asked, with no small amount of alarm. "Exactly what did Data tell you about last night?"

The counselor took a hard look at me, and then smiled. "Only that something happened after the rest of us left the restaurant," she said mildly. Too mildly. "Why? Is there more?"

A look passed between the counselor and the doctor, and suddenly Beverly Crusher was leaning closer into the table. "Come on, Zoe, share with your friends," she teased.

"In point of fact," I said, realizing that I sounded too much like Data when I used that phrase. "You two are my _mother's_ friends. I don't even use your first names."

"Well, you should," the doctor said, her smile softening. "Especially now that you're with Data."

"Beverly's right," Deanna said, "and we should have let you know that months ago."

"Besides," Beverly added, "Your mother isn't here, so we are stepping in as your…affectionate aunties…"

"Or older sisters…"

"I don't like that word, 'older,'" Dee.

"Not old-older. Just older than Zoe."

"Oh. That's alright then."

"Would you like me to leave until you two come to a consensus?" I asked.

Both women laughed.

"You two," I said, "Are made of evil."

"What's the expression your generation uses?" Beverly asked. "It takes one to know one."

"Doomed. I am doomed."

"Yes," Deanna said, "You are."

They cackled. They actually _cackled_.

Fortunately, at that moment that Jordan, the man who had taken over as bartender after Guinan left the ship, came to take our orders. "Coffee, please," I begged. "_Dopio con panna_, if you can do espresso."

In the more serious, more professional voice I was accustomed to hearing from her, Beverly added, "Zoe, you really should eat something," before asking for her own coffee and a butter croissant.

Deanna asked for a mocha and some Betazoid dish that I wasn't familiar with.

"Did you want something to eat?" Jordan asked kindly.

"A spinach and mushroom omelet and wheat toast would be lovely," I said.

"Gotcha," he replied, and disappeared behind the bar.

When the counselor spoke again, she also used her more serious tone. "We're sorry for teasing you, Zoe. We're just happy to see you and Data together. He really did only mention the incident at the restaurant."

I shrugged awkwardly. "I was probably overreacting to that," I said. "As to the rest…we've been together for seven months. It's not like it's new."

"But you haven't spent the night on the ship before," Deanna said.

"No," I agreed. "But it wasn't for lack of being invited."

"And, forgive me, Zoe, but it's radiating from you - your relationship changed last night, didn't it?"

I felt myself blush. "Yeah," I said. "In a couple ways."

Beverly asked in her best this-won't-hurt-a-bit voice, "Are you okay with the change in your relationship?"

I blinked at her, confused. "Why wouldn't I be? Data is…" Awesome? Phenomenal? Special? Thoughtful? Caring? None of those words were adequate. "Data is Data." I said with a shrug.

Something must have flitted across my face, because Deanna asked softly, "Zoe, is anything wrong?"

Two of Jordan's servers appeared with our coffees and food then, and I waited for them to step away before answering.

"He asked me if I had any regrets about last night, but I didn't ask _him._"

Deanna touched my hand briefly. "I think if Data had regrets he's comfortable enough to tell you. That he asked you speaks more about his past than any strong concerns about his relationship with you."

I nodded. "We've done the whole compare-sexual-histories thing. I mean…you have to, don't you? When you want more than a fling? He told me about Tasha." Both of their expressions darkened slightly, "Oh, I'm sorry. I know she was your friend, too. Should I not…" I sighed. "I can't talk about Data and me with my mother, because…you know…she's my _mother_. I can't talk about him with my girlfriends at Yale, because they lack the necessary context to really understand who he is. I mean, a couple of them have met him, but it was brief, and…god, I'm babbling as much as he ever did."

Deanna and Beverly shared another look, this time matching indulgent smiles. "It's fine, Zoe. We really did mean for you to be able to talk to us, if you needed - or wanted - to," the counselor said. "And it's better this way than in my office where things will become clinical."

"If it helps," Beverly added, "I've often recommended to my patients and my friends that all young women need an older woman who isn't their mother to be part of their support system. And even if Wes were a girl, I couldn't have this conversation with him."

"What about your girlfriends from the ship? Are you still close with…Dana and Annette, wasn't it?" Troi asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, Dana and Annette. Oh, we talk all the time, and whenever we're close enough we meet for coffee or dinner or whatever. Dana, especially, since she's also in university on Earth. But…to them, Data is still a teacher. An authority figure."

Deanna smiled reassuringly from behind her mocha. "You'd mentioned Tasha…" she prompted.

I swallowed a couple of bites of my omelet before answering. "Okay," I said. "I know it was a one-night stand. I know it was chemically triggered. I also know that he still has a holographic portrait of her. So, I guess, I want to know…if she hadn't…if she had lived, do you think they'd have had a longer relationship." I paused and tacked on. "Am I competing with a ghost?"

"I can't deny we've all wondered about that," Deanna said. "And the counselor in me wants to tell you to talk to Data about it if you're truly worried. But as a friend…I don't think there's anything there that need worry you. If there was, Data would never have allowed your relationship to evolve the way it has."

"You might ask him why he keeps her portrait," Beverly suggested. "But I'm pretty sure the only person you're in competition with is yourself."

"Probably," I agreed.

They let me eat in relative peace until I was finished with my food, chatting only about inconsequentials. Once I had finished, however, Beverly asked, "So, Zoe, there is one thing we're dying to know…"

"What's that?" I asked, pretty certain I didn't really want to know the answer.

"How _was_ Data?"

I thought about all the different responses I could make, but ultimately decided vague was best. "That," I said, pushing my empty plate away. "is for me to know, and you to wonder about for all eternity."

And after that? I fled.

**(=====)**

When Data returned from his duty shift he found me sitting on his bed working on my padd. "Zoe," he greeted, "I am home." He came to my side, and I lifted my head to meet his kiss. "You could have used my workstation," he observed. "I would not have minded."

I shrugged. "I was going to take a nap, but I got a message about an audition and thought I'd update my resume before I sent it. I'd rather wait til after _Crucible_, but I don't want to miss the opportunity. Anyway, this is more comfortable. Did you find any new life or save any worlds today?"

"Either of those scenarios is extremely unlikely while we are still in Spacedock."

"On this ship? I'm not so sure about that," I teased lightly. "Speaking of which, you never did tell me why Beverly assumed that I would be here today, and the subject didn't come up at breakfast."

"Then you did go?" he asked. "Was it enjoyable?"

"Depends on your definition of enjoyable. Parts of it were…other parts were…" I hesitated then decided to just go for it. "Data, you asked me, this morning, if I had any regrets about moving our relationship forward. I didn't ask if _you_ were okay with it. I mean…I sort of bulldozed you into bed."

"Bulldozed?" His head-tilt showed just how much he didn't understand that piece of slang.

"Forced, coerced, seduced," I said, unintentionally imitating one of his oldest patterns.

"May I sit?" he asked gently. I resisted the urge to remind him that it was his bed, and just nodded, moving my padd out of the way. "Do you truly believe that I would have been intimate with you if it was not something I also wanted?"

"No," I said. "But wanting and being ready for it are two different things. Intellectually, I know there's no way I _could_ force you to do anything you didn't really want to do, but emotionally…?" I looked at the floor, the bathroom door, the ceiling, anywhere but at him.

He lifted his hand to my face, gently turning my head so that I had to meet his gaze. "Did we not, only last night, exchange words of love? Must I remind you again of your own observation that we 'fit' well together." His soft expression morphed into the hint of a devilish smile. "Would it be easier for you if I simply demonstrated once more _precisely _how well we do fit?"

My concerns didn't exactly vanish, but they certainly receded. "You _know_ I've always responded best to a hands-on approach."

He proceeded to 'demonstrate' until even the smallest doubt about his willingness had perished.

* * *

**IV**

"So, is there going to be food at this thing?" I asked as I was putting the final touches on my hair and make-up. Data had let me sleep for several hours after his bedroom demonstration, and now, at ten pm ship's time, I was both antsy and hungry. Especially hungry.

"It is likely that there will be hors d'oeuvres if nothing else," Data answered mildly.

"And why, exactly, am I going?"

"Because it would be inappropriate for me to refuse an invitation from my captain."

"No," I said. "That's why _you're_ going. Me? I could totally be hanging at my parent's house watching the news feeds from New York until they drop the glass apple and eating delivery pizza." It wasn't that I was nervous, exactly. More like, anxious. And suddenly feeling extremely out of place.

"If you would rather to return to San Francisco, I can arrange transport. Alternatively, you may remain here. Either way, however, I must attend this gathering." This was uttered in his best firm-but-polite tone, but he softened it with a more emotional plea. "My preference is that you come with me, Zoe. The _Enterprise _is nearly ready for final warp trials, after which we will be embarking on another extended mission. We will not have many more opportunities to spend time together."

"There you go with the sense-making again," I muttered. "I'm just a little nervous."

"Ah," he said. "Then this would be your pre-Picard grumble. Carry on."

"Excuse me?" I left the bathroom and stalked toward him, giving him a look that - if it were a blade - would cut through bio-plas sheeting.

"You become nervous, agitated, and somewhat antagonistic before every social event where the captain will be present. I do not understand why you assume he either dislikes or disapproves of you. I can assure you that neither is true. However, experience has taught me that no argument I make will dissuade you from completing your ritual grump. Please be aware however, that if we do not leave within nine-point-seven-three minutes we will be late."

For several seconds, I just stared at him. Then I burst out laughing.

"Have I said something funny?" he asked me, and for just a second he was the old, pre-emotion-chip Data I'd crushed on for most of high school.

I shook my head. "Not exactly," I said. "It's just…Geordi was completely right. We _do_ act married."

"If you say so, dear," he replied, teasing me.

"Argh! Stop that." I took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm done grumbling now, but I _am_ a little nervous around the captain. Help me find a way to not be? I mean, holding your hand works some, but that's a bit weird after about the first minute."

"Perhaps, since you cannot hold my hand the entire evening, you would permit me to give you a talisman, of sorts," he said. "We have been exchanging gifts on New Year's Eve for many years, and though I enjoyed being there as you and your family celebrated Christmas, I find that our own tradition is equally important to me." As if by magic a small blue box appeared in his hand.

I smiled at that, accepting the box but not opening it yet. "I brought you something, too," I confessed. "Give me a sec." I went to the closet where I'd stowed my overnight bag (Data was a bit of a neat-freak) and pulled out a wrapped parcel. "Here," I said, handing it to him. "I didn't want to give you this in front of my parents…it's not personal, really, but it also is."

He opened the parcel to find a burgundy knit shirt and a navy blue sweater. "Civilian attire," he observed. "This is why you kept my spare uniform jacket."

"Guilty," I said. "I needed to know your size and didn't want you to know. Though I did return it. You should consider investing in some Starfleet logo-wear sweats and tees so I can steal those instead."

"Thank you," he said. "I will wear them at the earliest opportunity."

"Pictures or it didn't happen," I reminded him, grinning. Then I opened the box he'd given me. It was jewelry, and it was exquisite: the Greek masks of comedy and tragedy wrought in gold and suspended on a fine gold chain. "It's lovely, Data, thank you. Put it on me?" I turned around so he could fasten the clasp.

"I am glad you like it," he said. "We must leave now."

I touched the metal of the masks then reached for his hand. "Okay." I said. "Let's go."

**(=====)**

If I had been expecting a fancy party, I would have been bitterly disappointed. The captain's New Year's Eve gathering was actually fairly subdued, and only one step removed from intimate. Held in one of the observation lounges, it featured muted lighting, soft music, and many "conversation groupings" of chairs and tables, as well as another table laden with various hot and cold foods and drinks.

Picard himself greeted us as we entered. Like Data, he wasn't dressed formally, but wore a standard duty uniform. Beyond him, people mingled in an air of casual festivity, among them the senior staff and several of the ship's department heads, both Starfleet and civilian. Will and Deanna were conspicuous in their absence, but I'd heard they were spending the evening with Commander Riker's father. I wondered if missing this shindig had required special dispensation from the Admiralty.

"Mr. Data, welcome. Zoe, I'm glad you're with us tonight." His demeanor was a blend of holiday cheer and a bit of his typical reserve, a mix only he could manage. He leaned forward to kiss me on both cheeks. "Try the Cartesian crab puffs; they're delicious."

I wasn't used to seeing him being so relaxed, but I was in no position to question such things, so I merely echoed Data's polite "Thank you, sir," and moved past him.

Geordi waved us over to the table he was sharing with his current girlfriend, a woman named Christy Henshaw he'd been on-and-off about for almost as long as I'd known him, Reg Barclay and _his_ girlfriend, the ship's new primary school teacher, Sarah Miller, and, wearing a cadet uniform, Wesley Crusher.

"I thought Wes was off flying through the cosmos without a ship?" I murmured to Data as we wove our way through the other tables.

"Apparently he has returned," came his dry response.

Wes stood up when we arrived, shaking hands with Data and hugging me. "Did you come with your mom?" he asked, scanning the rest of the room.

"Zoe is here with me." Data answered him before I could.

Wes either didn't grasp the implication, or didn't care.

"I'm not even sure if my mother was invited," I added. "It's good to see you though, and we should totally catch up but _someone_ let me nap through dinner." I turned back to Data, "I'm going to check out the crab puffs. Do you want anything?"

"I will accompany you."

We browsed the buffet, returning to the table with a plate of crab puffs, coconut prawns, and spicy yellowtail sushi for me, and a small sampling of vegetable dishes for Data, as well as a glass each of red wine. He'd chosen the merlot, while I'd gone for the syrah.

"So, anyway, Commander Harris wrote me a nice recommendation, and they let me resume classes," Wes was saying when we returned to the table. "I was hoping she'd be here so I could thank her."

"Oh, so _that's_ why you asked about Mom," I said as I sat down between Wes and Data. "She and Ed are in Paris for the holiday, but I'm sure she'd love it if you stopped by the house sometime and said hello. Ed almost always has students around, and Mom does, too, and you'd be surprised at how many _Enterprise _alums end up there."

"Alums?" Data asked.

"Alumni," I explained. "Slang, sorry."

"The _Enterprise _is not a university," he observed. "But, I believe your term fits the sentiment."

"I'm glad you approve," I teased. "Also, Captain Picard was right, the crab puffs are incredible."

"I know! Aren't they?" This was from Sarah, who had been pretty quiet up to this point. "Reg won't try them. Says shellfish makes him itch."

I shrugged, smiling, "His loss, our gain. Are you looking forward to having kids on the ship again soon?"

"I am!" she enthused. "Is it true you were a student here?"

"It's true," I said, "Wes was, too, actually - for longer than I was. For me it was only the middle two years of high school. Well, technically I was enrolled for my senior year, too, but I was apprenticing with Idyllwild that year, so most of my work was via correspondence."

"That's why you look familiar," Christy interjected. She'd been having a side conversation with Geordi and Reg. "You were in that play with Data a few years back. _Good Women _or _Little Wives,_ wasn't it?"

"_Little Women_," Data, Sarah, and I said together, and laughed.

"I was so nervous," I said. "I was only seventeen, and Doctor Crusher had cast me as Jo. And I had to kiss Data."

"You didn't cheat the kiss?" Sarah asked.

"We could've, I guess," I answered. "But I'd been crushing on him for almost two years at that point, and I was on this weird edge of wanting to kiss him, but not wanting him to be able to tell how I really felt." I turned to Data, who was suspiciously quiet. "_Did_ you know?"

"I did not," he confirmed. "My chief concern with regard to that play was whether I would adequately convey that the Professor was in love with Jo."

"Considering almost every woman in the engineering department was talking about your performance the next morning," Christy said, "I'd say you did a good job." She peered at us, "But I thought you hadn't been dating that long?"

I took a sip of wine before answering, "We haven't. Data was never more than a very kind, very patient friend to me. It wasn't even me who clued him in that I _had_ been crushing on him."

"We have only been dating for seven months," Data said. "Fortunately, I have been allowed to remain with the new _Enterprise_ for much of that time." I shivered slightly when he said that, realizing again just how lucky we had been. "Zoe," he added in a softer tone, "Are you cold?"

I shook my head. "No, sorry, I'm fine."

"You're at Yale, aren't you?" Christy asked. After I nodded, she added, "What are you studying?"

"It's an interdisciplinary program - performance and social justice with an emphasis on theater," I explained. "By the time I graduate, I'll have met the requirements for pre-law, but I haven't decided if I want to pursue that or not. I'm kind of itching to be done with academia for a while. My advisor says I should take the LSAT's, and spend the summer going on auditions, and do law school as a winter entrant if nothing pans out. I've sent my resume and headshot to about fifteen agents in the last month, so, we'll see."

"I was not aware law school was a serious consideration," Data commented.

"It isn't, really," I said. "I'd love your insight though; can we discuss it later…alone?"

"Yes, dear," he said, mischief creeping into his tone.

Everyone at the table laughed.

**(=====)**

As the evening drew on, the conversation waned and the furniture was pushed back toward the walls for dancing. As host, Captain Picard had circulated among all of his guests, and now he returned to our table. "Zoe, may I steal you away for a dance?"

I glanced at Data to make sure he didn't mind, but he and Wes had both joined the engineering chatter, and Sarah was in the restroom. "Thank you, sir," I said. "I'd like that."

The song wasn't anything special…generic dance music that wasn't too slow or too fast, and - big surprise - he was an excellent leader. "Have you been enjoying your time on the _Enterprise_?" he asked. "I know Data is glad to have you here."

"It's been a nice break," I answered truthfully. "But a little weird. No offense, sir, but I never feel like I quite belong here, and now…I'm sorry, that's really more than you wanted to know."

"Not at all," he said smoothly. "Did I overhear you mention the possibility of law school?"

"It's really just a remote possibility right now," I answered. "Actually being a working actor is my preference."

"And if you did pursue law, is there a specific aspect of it that interests you?"

"Civil rights law would dovetail with my current course of study," I said. "As the Federation expands, there are always kinks to be worked out with new cultures…some don't have the same views on citizenship as most of us do."

"And theater helps that?"

"Theater has always been used to draw attention to the flaws and foibles of society," I said. "But I also chose my program because I wanted to make sure I did get a real education beyond accent mimicry and stage movement. It's challenging enough not feeling like an utter idiot when I'm around, well…you, sir."

"Is that why you feel you don't belong here? Because you're not an expert on starship propulsion or warp theory."

"Data mentioned that, did he?"

"He suggested you might feel more comfortable if I reached out to you."

"I'll kill him."

"I'd prefer that you didn't," he said drily. "He meant well, and he was right to bring it up. Let me clarify, then, Zoe Harris: you are always welcome here, and Data will not be the only person hurt if you avoid coming to visit."

"Duly noted, sir," I said, imitating a certain android. "And thank you…for the chat and the dance."

"No, Zoe, thank you." The song finished and he escorted me back to the table. "Make sure either you or Mr. Data lets me know when you open in _The Crucible_. If the _Enterprise _is close enough to Earth, I would enjoy seeing it."

"Yes sir," I said.

Data and I danced after that, and then I invited Wes to dance since he didn't have a date, and then I danced with Reg, and then Geordi while Data partnered Sarah and Christy. Finally it was midnight - well, midnight, ship's time - and Captain Picard,stepped to the center of the room.

"Friends and colleagues," he said, "thank you for joining me in celebrating the end of the old year and the beginning of the new." Servers had appeared and were handing out champagne. Data acquired two glasses, and handed one to me. "As we count down to midnight, please lift your glasses and remember those we've lost, welcome new members to our family, and toast to the future, and the good fortune of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_, and those whose lives are intertwined with hers."

Numerous instances of "Cheers!" and "Happy New Year!" filled the room, backed by the strains of "Auld Lang Syne."

**(=====)**

Once the noise died down, and the champagne was gone, the party broke up. Data and I were among the last to bid goodnight to Captain Picard, and then we were out in the corridor and waiting for a turbo-lift. I caught his hand once we were alone inside a 'lift, and kept it until we were back inside his quarters.

"Zoe, is something wrong?" His voice was laced with concern.

"Sorry, Data," I said. "I'm just realizing how hard it's going to be not seeing you every day."

"We have made it through seven months of not seeing each other every day," he pointed out. "I do not relish the thought of being apart from you for weeks at a time, either, but we must both have faith that our relationship will survive it."

"Do you honestly believe we can make the long distance thing work?" I asked. I didn't mention that my parents had tried and failed.

"Yes," he said. "I do." More vehemently he added. "I must."

I kicked off my shoes, and pulled off the knit sweater I'd been wearing over a camisole all night, flopping onto the couch. "Then I guess I have to trust you," I said. "After all you _are_ the one who has the reputation for being infuriatingly right all the time."

"Indubitably," he said lightly, bending to kiss me.

"Do you have work you absolutely have to get done tonight, or would you do something for me?" I asked.

"You would like tea?" he guessed.

I laughed softly. "Okay two 'somethings'. Would you play something for me on your violin? I miss hearing it."

His lips curved into the softest, sweetest version of his smile. "I will be happy to. Is there anything in particular you would like to hear?"

"Surprise me."

He brought me, not a dainty cup, but a proper mug of tarragon and mint tea, and I curled into my favorite corner of the couch, cradling the mug in both hands. After a moment to tighten his bow and tweak the tuning on the violin he began to play.

The first piece was a favorite of mine, something I'd even played on the cello, once upon a time when I thought playing music was all I wanted to do, Bach's "Air on the G String." He'd told me, once, that someone had written lyrics to the piece, a story about a boy finding his father's cast-off violin in an attic, with only one string left.

As my tea dwindled down to only dregs, though, and sleep began to overtake me, Data surprised me with a modern tune, one we'd even danced to earlier in the night: "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?"

_Maybe I'm crazy to suppose  
I'd ever be the one you chose  
Out of a thousand invitations  
You received_

_Ooh, but in case I stand one little chance_  
_Here comes the jackpot question in advance:_  
_What are you doing New Year's_  
_New Year's Eve?_

* * *

**Notes: **"What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?" music and lyrics are by Frank Loesser. "Air on the G String" was originally the 2nd movement of Johann Sebastian Bach's _Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D Major _(BWV 1068). The version most of us are familiar with is an arrangement by August Wilhelmj, who transposed the piece from D major to C major so that it could, in fact, be played entirely on one string. It's become part of the typical repertoire for most bowed string players. There really are lyrics to it (I remember singing them in a concert in elementary school), but I only remember fragments and have never been able to find them online. I believe the vocal version goes by the name "One String Melody."


	3. Same Auld Lang Syne

**_Disclaimer:_ Paramount/CBS owns all the canon characters and settings, though Pocket Books might own the Happy Bottom Riding Club. The rest is mine. See notes at the end for music credits and other info. **

**This piece takes place at the end of 2377 - roughly two years after _Insurrection_ and two years before _Nemesis._**

* * *

**Same Auld Lang Syne**

_Met my old lover in the grocery store  
The snow was falling, Christmas Eve  
I stole behind her in the frozen foods  
And I touched her on the sleeve._

**I**

**New Paradise City, Erehwon**

**Sunday, December 24th, 2377**

**02:00 AM local time**

It was two in the morning on what would have been Christmas Eve if I were on Earth, or even on Centaurus. On Erehwon, however, it was just another Sunday, and I was just another actress eating bad room service food because I hadn't wanted to go clubbing with the rest of the cast. It wasn't that I didn't like dancing and revelry - I did - but our initial six week run had stretched to eight, and then twelve, and I had been growing increasingly lonely and antsy.

It didn't help that in the after math of both the Battle of Sector 001 and the Dominion War, from which the Federation was still recovering, a strong pro-human movement had begun to grow. In truth the main organization, the Keep Earth Human League, had been present since the dawn of Starfleet a couple hundred years before, but now we lived in a world where anyone could be a shape-shifter, and holograms and androids were being granted civil rights.

Well, one android anyway, but for me his story was always the lead, because we'd been a couple for the past five and a half years. "Data," I said out loud to my empty hotel room. "I know I'm being weak and pathetic, but I'd quit this show tomorrow if it meant you'd be here." But of course, he couldn't be. In fact, he was even further away than usual, on temporary assignment as the first officer of the _U.S.S. Sovereign_. We both knew he needed the experience to boost his own career, but we'd also both been spoiled by the fact that his usual position was on Starfleet's flagship, which was generally much more accessible.

As if on cue, the in-room com-system chimed with an alert from the concierge. "Go ahead," I instructed.

_"Miss Harris, I'm sorry for the lateness of the hour, but Commander Data is calling for you from the _Sovereign_. Will you accept video?"_

The front desk had been given a list of people who should always be put through if they called, no matter the time of day or night. Data was at the top of the list. "Yes, thank you," I said.

_"Transferring. Please hold." _

The view-screen on the desk flickered on and then resolved into an image of the one man in the universe I most wanted to see. "Zoe," he said, offering a soft smile. "I am sorry for calling so late. Did I wake you?"

"Data," I said, suddenly teary. I wiped my eyes with my hand, and managed a watery smile. "I was up, just feeling a little pathetic tonight. I miss you."

His expression softened even more. "As do I," he said. "But this assignment is nearly over, and you only have to complete the week, and then we will both return home."

"So you are going to finish on time?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I am. My permanent replacement arrived this morning, and the science officer has successfully passed the bridge officer test under my tutelage." He paused, then added in his gentlest tone, "Zoe, please forgive my bluntness, but your appearance gives every indication that you are exhausted."

I shrugged. "I haven't been sleeping well. There were protestors at the theater again last night, and someone had set the current on the barbed wire too high. We nearly had a crispy-fried emcee." I was playing Sally Bowles in a version of the twentieth-century musical _Cabaret. _Originally set in Berlin during the rise of the Nazi regime, our version was set on Bajor during the Cardassian occupation. It was dark, gritty, and eerily relevant to the new post-war Federation, and between the protestors and the press, it was also getting a lot of attention. "On the upside," I added, forcing a bright tone, "ticket sales have never been better. They talked about another extension, but I'm not the only one feeling a bit burnt out."

"A bit?" he questioned. "I estimate that you have lost ten kilograms since this engagement began." He doesn't ask if the authorities were called, or suggest that he can help with the political turmoil.

"Nine," I admitted. "But that was a pretty impressive estimate for video, especially without a full body shot."

"Zoe…"

"Data…" but I knew he was expressing concern because he loved me."I'm sorry," I said. "I promise I'm eating regular meals and sleeping as much as I can. I'm just…" Lonely. Tired. Frazzled. "I just miss you," I said lamely, because none of the other words were right. "Should I book passage to Starbase 78 after my last show?" I asked, changing the subject.

"That will not be necessary," he responded.

"Oh?"

"I had planned to surprise you, but I believe you will benefit more from knowing: I have a shuttlecraft at my disposal, and will come get you."

"Isn't it out of the way?"

"Not significantly, no." He hesitated then added, "I do not wish to wait any longer than is absolutely necessary to be with you again."

I closed my eyes for a long moment, and when I opened them again I found his yellow-eyed gaze and held it. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I do 'know that,'" he said, "and I love you, also." Again he paused, and I saw him swallow reflexively. "I am afraid my 'time is up' and I must end this call. Please try to rest." He didn't add _And please be careful_, but I knew he was thinking it.

"I will," I said. "I'm glad you called."

"As am I. Goodnight, Zoe."

The screen went dark.

* * *

**II**

**Sunday December 24th, 2377**

**12:00 PM local time**

I was crossing the hotel lobby to catch the tram to the theater, when I heard my name being called. This wasn't unusual; fans and gawkers called my name a lot. What was unusual was that the voice calling my name was familiar to me. I turned around, and scanned the other people in the lobby - cast-mates, tourists, business travelers - looking for the source of the voice.

"Geez, Zoificus, I know we haven't been face-to-face in a couple of years, but I'd have thought you'd recognize me."

"T'vek? Oh my god! T'vek!" I launched myself across the lobby to hug the man who had once been my boyfriend, and remained one of my best friends. "What are you doing here? Are you alone? Why didn't you call and tell me you were coming?"

"Heyyy," he laughed, hugging me back. "Breathe between questions, would you. You're as bad as Commander - "

"- Data. Yes, I know." I looked away from him, and then back, flashing him my best insouciant smile. "It's actually worse when we're in the same room."

He grinned. "Yeah, I bet. Is he here with you? For the holidays?"

I shook my head. "Detached duty. Temporary first officer of the _Sovereign_. But his assignment's nearly done, and I only have four shows left and then…god, I'm sorry…I haven't seen you in two years, and I'm complaining that my boyfriend isn't with me for Christmas."

"Hey," he said. "Zoe, this is me. You're allowed to complain to me."

"Only so you can use it against me later," I teased.

"Well," he said wryly. "There is that. Come sit with me a minute?" I nodded and he led me to one of the conversation groupings in the lobby, one which was mercifully empty at this hour. "I'm here with Anjali, actually. I had a job here, and she came along."

"That's wonderful. I can't wait to see her." A news story I'd seen connected with some other information in my head. "Oh, wow! You're Stevek Designs!" I had completely forgotten his real name.

"Guilty," he said.

"I knew you'd opened your own architectural firm, but for some reason I kept parsing that as 'Steve K.' Tell your graphics guy to rethink that logo."

"I'll get right on that," came his dry retort. "Anyway, Anj found out there was some controversial musical happening here, and thought we should get tickets to the winter extravaganza instead - " I glared at him, as he'd probably expected me to. "- but then _I_ remembered you mentioning you were in it the last time we talked. So we have tickets for tonight. Any chance you could join us for dinner before-hand?"

"Aw, I wish I could," I said, meaning it. Anjali was a lovely woman, and we always got along well when we saw each other. "Weekends are brutal for me. Four shows in two days - we have a matinee today as well as the evening performance. Please tell me you got decent seats?"

"Row nine," he answered. "I learned from the best."

"Come back stage after," I said. "I'll leave your names with security. Maybe we could have a drink or something…but I don't want to impose on your Christmas."

"Neither of us actually celebrates it, Zoe," he reminded me gently. "But I know it's important to you. Drinks then, and maybe we could all do something tomorrow? You're…dim, aren't you?"

"That's _dark,_" I corrected. "And that would be lovely, as long as your wife doesn't mind an interloper."

"Anj loves you, silly. We both do."

"Back at you," I said, "really. But I do have to run - I'm supposed to be doing an interview or something before call." I stood up, kissing him on the cheek. "It's good to see you, Tev. Give my love to Anjali." I left the hotel, and made it to the theater just in time.

**(=A=)**

Our director was waiting for me when I entered the theater lobby, her white hair untwisted from its customary long braid, and pulled into a much more cosmopolitan style. "Cutting it close there, Zoe," she said. "You do remember that _FYE_ is doing a story on the show?"

"I remember," I said. "Sorry if I scared you; I ran into an old friend in the lobby of the hotel."

"You seem to have friends everywhere," she observed. "It must be nice."

From anyone else, it would have been a catty remark, but Rory Bowen was actually one of my closest friends. "I don't exactly plan it," I assured her, linking my arm through hers. "It just happens. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

She smiled and patted my hand. "I'm just a little tense," she said. "Protesters, press, divorce proceedings."

"Divorce?" I asked. "I thought you and Gil had worked out your issues?"

"That was before he found out Harb was here." She shook her head, "It's nothing, really. Let's do this, and we'll talk between shows."

I wanted to object, to give my friend the time she clearly needed, but the reporter was already approaching. "Hello," he said, offering his hand to each of us in turn, though, I knew, he and Rory had a personal relationship that went back years. "Rory, it's good to see you again." He kissed her, after taking her hand, the way you kiss an old friend who is also an ex-lover. "Miss Harris -"

"It's just Zoe, please."

"Zoe, then. I'm Harb Culkin from _For Your Entertainment._" I knew this, of course, but his introduction was probably automatic. "We've set up one of the café tables from your set, and the cameras are in position. We're just going to ask you a few questions about yourself and the show. You've done interviews before."

"Several, yes. Will Rory be participating as well, or Jimmy?" Jimmy Grimmaldi was a theatrical veteran, and played the emcee in our show.

"Nope. This one's all about you."

I hadn't known that, but I tried to cover my surprise. "Oh, well then… Shall we begin?" I climbed the stairs to the stage and sat in one of the chairs.

Harb came to join me, and I saw the lights on the cameras switch from red to green. "Gentlebeings, we're here with Zoe Harris, the young woman who's been charming audiences with her fresh portrayal of Sally Bowles in the gritty musical _Cabaret. _ Zoe, why this show?"

"Because they gave me the part," I quipped, though I sobered instantly. "I think this show is extremely relevant. It expresses a lot of the same confusion and turmoil, and represents that same unsettledness, that many of us felt after the Battle of Sector 001 and the Dominion War."

"It's a pretty dark show."

"It is," I agreed. "But sometimes the darkness can be cathartic. And running through _Cabaret - _especially in the actual cabaret acts, there's this sense that these people are whistling in the dark. I think we all do that. I think that makes it universal."

"The original version, the twentieth century version, of the show, was set in Nazi Germany. This production is set on Cardassia-occupied Bajor. Do you agree with that choice?"

"Well, that's really something our director, Rory Bowen, would be better at discussing, but, yes. Yes, I do."

"Would you elaborate?"

"Sure." I took a moment to find the right phrase. "Whether or not the analogy is completely accurate really isn't the point. Nothing is ever a complete reflection of anything else. But, by setting our story on Bajor, at the beginning of the Cardassian occupation, rather than in Berlin at the dawn of the Third Reich, I think we've changed the context so that modern audiences will get more out of the play than just an evening's entertainment."

"Would it be bad if an evening's entertainment was all they got?"

"Not at all. But it's better if you're entertained, but still come away from it with a new perspective or a new idea."

"So, you think theater should be provocative?"

"I don't think it's a requirement, but it's definitely an added bonus."

"This play is definitely provoking reactions from certain segments of society. There were people protesting the show last night. Does that bother you?"

"Well, I think it's a bit silly that they're protesting a piece of fiction, but again, if it's inspiring that sort of reaction, I think it means we've succeeded in making it relevant to a world in which we claim to have quashed racism and bigotry."

Harb arched his eyebrows at me. "Are you accusing the Federation of being racist and bigoted?"

"The Federation as a whole? No. But there are still individuals, and even whole groups of people who hold to less enlightened points of view."

"You have first-hand experience with bigotry, don't you? After all, you're romantically linked with the Federation's only sentient android."

I could feel the edge of anger welling up inside me, but I counted to five, and then ten, before I responded, too calmly. "No, I'm 'romantically linked' with Lieutenant Commander Data, a highly decorated line officer from Starfleet's flagship who has saved or helped to save the Federation on more than one occasion. He_ happens_ to be an android. Just as you're a Peabody-winning journalist who _happens_ to be a Martian-born human."

Harb gave me a sharp look, as if he'd been expecting me to blow up at him. "Fair enough," he said, forcing a chuckle. "But you have dealt with bigotry."

I nodded. "Yes, there've been a few incidents. Mostly it's been fringe groups, or members of the Keep Earth Human League, and their major activities has been tabloid journalism and a few rude comments."

"Does it bother you that people question your relationship?"

"Well, it's not exactly sunshine and roses, but honestly, it bothers me more that they couldn't come up with a name for their organization that involves a better acronym." I snorted. "Honestly, 'KEHL' - what does that even mean?"

Harb laughed at that. "So your main beef with them is a bad marketing plan?"

"Well, not my main beef. But it's a thing."

"Do you have any reason to believe that KEHL and the people protesting here are at all connected?"

I gave him a quizzical look. "Well, I'm an actor, not an investigator, but I think it's doubtful. On the other hand, stranger things have happened. Either way, it's making people more aware of this show, and from what I've heard, ticket sales are booming, so if their aim is to hurt us - epic failure."

"You seem remarkably unfazed by both the controversy and the spotlight you're in."

I shrugged. "You play the hand you're dealt," I said. "I'd prefer to have people coming out because I'm doing - because _we're_ doing - good work. On the other hand, there's an old saying: 'if they're shooting at you, you know you're doing something right.'"

"Thank you Zoe," Harb said, and then added, "_Cabaret _is playing that the Atrium Theater in Erehwon's New Paradise City through Friday, December 29th or Stardate 54994.06."

We stayed seated until the camera lights turned red again, and then he grinned at me, "Great interview, Zoe. I thought I almost had you when I mentioned your relationship with Commander Data."

"You almost did," I confessed softly. "Thanks for not asking about wedding dates, or anything."

He grinned, "Well, now that you've brought it up…"

I laughed, "No, Harb. Even with someone I mostly trust, I am not going to discuss the details of my personal relationship. But I will tell Data you asked after him."

"You two should consider doing a joint interview," he suggested. "It would be good for your career, and it might even quell some of your detractors."

"I don't live my life to make racist bigots happy," I said. "But I'll consider it - we'll consider it." I stood up. "It's my call time. When will this air?"

"In about an hour, actually."

"Can I get a copy of the broadcast file?"

"I'll have it sent to you."

"Thanks, Harb." I left him on the stage, and headed for my dressing room.

**(=A=)**

"Okay, so what's going on with Gil?" I asked Rory. We were in my dressing room sharing a tray of sushi and a pot of green tea between the matinee and the evening performance. "How bad are things, really?"

"You shouldn't worry about it," she insisted. "Just focus on your performance tonight."

"How many times have you been there for me when I was whining and pathetic about missing Data?" I asked. "I'm your friend; talk to me."

"We were going to see a counselor," she said. "I thought we were working toward reconciliation. Now he's saying he wants to go forward with the divorce, and he wants a good chunk of my assets."

"Oh, Rory…" I nabbed the last piece of unagi. "What does your lawyer say?"

"She says I should face facts and do the most expedient thing…but I'm not ready to do that."

I reached out and covered her hand with mine. "I'm sorry you're going through this," I said. "Let me know if there's anything I can do?"

"You've already 'done,'" she said. "By the way, you were amazing this afternoon. Did Harb say something to give you that edge of anger?"

I sighed. "He brought up KEHL and my relationship with Data. But," and I smiled triumphantly, "even though it took counting to ten in my head, I kept my cool on-air."

"Of course you did. Oh, did I tell you that the issue with the barbed wire was just an accident?"

"Oh…?"

"The tech misread the dial, apparently. We've given him a new handheld torch; that should help. I've also asked Trin to check the setting before the finale starts." She began collecting plates and chopsticks.

"An extra pair of eyes is never bad," I agreed, shoving empty take-out containers back into their bag. "I need to lie down for a bit until my next call," I said. "Thanks for dinner. Tell Harb I thought he was really fair."

In the mirror, I caught a glimpse of Rory's troubled expression, just before she left me alone.

* * *

**III**

T'vek and Anjali were already seated at a table - a half booth, really - in the hotel bar when I joined them, but they stood up to greet me. It was almost midnight, almost Christmas, but if I couldn't spend it with the man I loved, at least I was spending it with friends. "Tev," I said, hugging him again. "Anjali, it's great to see you."

Anjali Mairaj - formerly Anjali Gol'tresshal - pulled me into a warm embrace. "Zoe! You were amazing tonight."

"Better than the winter extravaganza?" I teased.

Her laugh was as musical as ever, and her green eyes lit up with her amusement. "I told Tev not to tell you that. I should have known he would. But yes, better. Darker, though."

"It is that," I agreed. "But I'm really glad you came, even so." They resumed their seats on the upholstered bench and I settled into the chair opposite them. "Have you already ordered?"

"We were waiting for you," T'vek said. "Do you want anything more substantial than just drinks? The bar menu looks fairly extensive."

"Actually," I said, "they have a brownie on their dessert menu that's to die for…and it's been a medicinal chocolate kind of day."

T'vek caught the eye of the server, and we placed our order: red wine and the brownie for me, a local micro-brew beer and a cheesy snack for him, and Anjali asked for mint tea and a scoop of vanilla ice cream, which seemed odd, but I'd been known to order stranger things at later hours, so I didn't comment.

Instead, I told them about how it had been almost four months since Data and I had seen each other, and how the separation was beginning to wear on me. I told them about the protesters, and the interview, and Harb's questions about Data. I even mentioned a little about trying to find the strength to be a source of support for the director who was also my friend.

T'vek took it all in the way he always had, listening, and then mentally chewing on what I'd said. His dark eyes didn't flicker the way Data's did, but in some ways the two of them were very similar, and I knew he would offer something useful before the night was over.

By contrast, Anjali responded by offering me the emotional support I really needed. She reached across the table and covered my hands with her own. "Oh, Zoe. I can see why chocolate was needed. You're coping with a lot. Does Data know about the interview?"

"Yes and no. He knew it was on my schedule."

"But he hasn't seen it?"

"Not as far as I know. I'm getting a copy to keep, though."

"Good. You should send it to him directly, by the way. So he knows what you said."

I nodded. "Yeah," I said softly. "You're probably right."

The server interrupted us at that point, to take away our empty glasses and plates and offer refills. I asked for a cognac, wanting to take a bit more of the edge off the evening, and T'vek did the same. Anjali asked for sparkling water. When she drew her hands from mine and sat back against the seat of the booth, I saw something flicker in her face, and took a hard look at her. Her dark hair was as lustrous as ever (and how I envied her for it!), but there was a new softness in her face, and she carried herself as if were protecting something. The dots in my head formed a picture, and I couldn't stop staring.

"Zoe," she asked me, "are you alright?"

"You're pregnant," I blurted. "Oh my god, you're pregnant, and you let me sit here and babble at you for two hours without telling me!"

She burst out laughing. "I thought T'vek had told you that, too, since he mentioned everything else."

"Sitting right here you know," he snarked, rejoining our conversation. He kissed her on the cheek then turned back to me. "Sorry, Zoe. I did mean to tell you, but then we got sidetracked."

"It's fine," I said. "More than. Oh, god, I'm so happy for you. For both of you. I'd better get to be an honorary auntie."

"Of course you will," Anjali said. She yawned, then. "I'm sorry, but I think I've reached my pumpkin hour."

"It is pretty late," I said. The servers had done last call five or ten minutes before. "Thanks, Anjali. You were very helpful."

"It's the least I can do for the auntie of my future son or daughter," she said. "Tev's going to walk me back to our room, and then I'm sending him to you. I can tell you both want to talk more."

"It can wait 'til tomorrow…" I said.

She rose to her feet. "Perhaps it can," she replied. "But I'm quite certain it should not."

**(=A=)**

Alone in my hotel room, I found that Harb had already sent the file, with a note asking me to 'strongly consider' a joint interview. I thought about Anjali's recommendation that I send it to Data, but decided that doing so could wait. Instead, I took a few minutes to scrub the remaining makeup from my face and change into more comfortable clothing. I was curled up on the couch with chamomile tea and a book, too wired to sleep, but not really focused enough to read, when T'vek activated the signal of my door. "Come in," I called, and he did. "Hey. I was half expecting you to call and cancel."

"Naah. I'm nocturnal, and Anj really does want us to talk. Nice shirt. Did you get recruited and not tell me?"

"What?" I looked down at what I was wearing - a comfortably worn uniform shirt I'd stolen from Data. The first time I'd warn it was in his quarters, and his response had been to ensure there was no trace of rank insignia, before stripping it off me. I blushed faintly, remembering. "Oh. This old thing? I might have stolen it from the recycle-pile when the new uniform design came out." I felt him looking at me and added, "It's comfortable."

"And you miss Data." It wasn't a question. "Anj has this old sweatshirt of mine she always wears when I'm not home. Does that actually help?"

"Yeah," I said. "Surprisingly a lot." I put the book aside, and moved more into the corner of the couch. "I sense a lecture coming on," I teased lightly. "You may as well sit."

"A lecture?" He arched one of his eyebrows at me. "Zoe, please. I do not lecture. I merely advise. Firmly."

I laughed at that. "Oh, really? Well then, oh mighty Oracle, what do you advise?"

He gave me his best wicked grin as he took a seat at the other end of the couch. "You should definitely listen to everything your friend T'vek says, and follow his instructions," he teased. "Also? Tell Data exactly how much you miss him."

"No," I said. "If I do that, he's likely to break off his mission and come running out of sheer worry. I miss him horribly, and I _do_ want him here, but…not like that. If I had a legitimate reason to get him here, it'd be different. But…" I let the sentence trail off.

"Yeah," he said. "I figured." He was quiet for nearly a minute, starting to speak and then stopping himself several times. Finally he said, "Okay, Zoe, here's the thing, we've been friends for years, and I probably know you better than almost anyone."

"That's probably true," I allowed.

"When I met Anj, you were the one who made me realize she was my forever person."

"And your point is?"

"You've been in love with Data almost as long as I've known you…"

"That's not true," I said. "Well, not entirely true. I mean…you and me, back then…that was real."

"I know," he said with the complete serenity of someone who had no more unresolved issues in their romantic life. "I _do_ know that," he said, leveling the full force of his half-Vulcan/half-Betazoid gaze at me. "But whenever it happened Data's _your _forever person."

His expression dared me to deny it. I couldn't. "Yes," I agreed. "He is. Still not hearing points being made."

"Give me a minute," he said. "I'm out of practice. Anjali is usually the one lecturing me."

"As it should be," I said, snorting.

"Zoe…"

"Sorry…"

"Okay, I'm just going to ask you: why aren't you and Data married? I know he wants to be. What's holding you back?"

"You know he wants to…how do you even know that?"

"He told me, of course." His tone rode the edge between nonchalant and smug.

If there had been throw pillows on the couch, I'd have pummeled him with one. "He told you? He _told_ you?"

T'vek nodded. "He did. At my wedding. I don't think he meant to, exactly. You were dancing with Geordi, and we were both watching you. But how I know really isn't important."

"It's not?"

"No, it's not." He reached for my hand, and I met him half way. "How long have we known each other? Don't we tell each other everything?" He waited for my nod. "So, tell me: what's got you spooked, Zo'?"

"I don't want to be a Starfleet widow," I said, just as I'd told Data himself several months before.

"Bullshit," T'vek said. "If that was really what was scaring you, you'd have left him after the Borg." His gaze this time was frank and appraising. "C'mon, Zoe, this is me. This is us. We've never lied to each other, even when we maybe should have." He gave me an evil look and then glanced pointedly at my bare feet. "I'll tickle you if I have to."

"Don't you _dare_!" I said.

"Then answer the question."

"Okay." I was silent for a long while, but my friend was patient with me. "Partly it _is_ that I don't want to be a Starfleet widow," I said. "And partly it's because when we have these long separations, I'm half-convinced he'll find someone better." He made a noise of disagreement, but I just continued. "And partly - probably mostly - it's because whenever I find out a friend is having a baby - Dana is pregnant with her _second_, by the way - I realize that as long as I'm with him, I'm never going to have that experience."

"Wait - Zoe Harris is upset at the prospect of _not_ having kids? Who'd have thought?" But his teasing was light, and his tone shifted back to one of friendly concern almost immediately. "Have you told Data this?"

"No."

"Do you actually want children?"

"Scary notion, isn't it?" My laugh was soft and non-committal. "I never thought I wanted kids, but I'm in a relationship with a man who would be an awesome father, if only he could, you know, actually procreate. And I…I really want to have that experience with him."

"Since when does he have to be fertile? Or even organic? Zoe, you of all people should know better than to think what he is institutes automatic restrictions. You _know_ there are tons of ways to become a parent. You could adopt. He could build an android child. You could go to a sperm bank and do artificial insemination…" He let the sentence die, and just sat with me, still holding my hand, for a long moment. Then he said, "I'm betting you're realizing about now just how obtuse you've been."

"Kind of," I said sheepishly. "Yeah."

"Have the two of you really never discussed kids?"

I laughed. "Hi, have you met me? Avoidance and evasion are my specialties." The words came out with more bitterness than I'd intended. "Sorry," I said. "I have no filter when I'm tired."

"I remember," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"We had a fight. Well, not a fight-fight, because, you know, Data can be stubborn, but he's not one to allow stupid arguments."

"Right," T'vek snorted. "_Data_ can be stubborn."

"Do you want to hear my confession, Tev, or do you want me to tell your wife you failed in your assignment."

"What makes you think this was Anjali's idea?"

"Because _I_ know _you_ better than pretty much everyone, too." I took a deep breath. "Anyway, it was when I was doing a play in New York, and he'd been at the opening, and then we did some other snooty social events and there was press."

"I vaguely recall someone whinging to me over a com-call about that."

"Yeah, well. I was complaining about the word 'partner,' and he brought up that the solution would be to just get married."

"Wait, he proposed and you turned him down?"

"No!" All my anguish and frustration was in that word. More calmly I repeated, "No. Do you really think I'd have the nerve to refuse him?" I sighed. "I didn't _let _him propose. But I did agree to consider it. And discuss it. And then he was sent to the _Sovereign _and I was asked to do this show - and I love the show, I really do - it's just - it was supposed to be six weeks, and now it's been double that. More if you count rehearsal time."

He squeezed my hand. "Zoe, I can't pretend to know how your relationship with Data works, but I know you, and I know him, and I know that he'd move every star in the galaxy if that's what it took to make you happy."

"So I should call him and say, 'okay, let's talk marriage?'"

"No, you should call him and tell him you love him and you've been completely daft. Then you tell him you want to marry him and have lots of sex and babies, for whatever value of 'baby' you both agree to."

His phrasing made me smile, and his support improved my mood, and I couldn't let him have the last word, so I grinned evilly. "Oh, please," I said. "We're already having lots of sex."

"God, Zoe, so didn't need to know that!" He pulled his hand from mine, but he was laughing. "Call him," he said. "Don't wait. If he's busy, schedule a time. And call Anj and me in the morning. Well, maybe more like noon."

"Okay, okay." I stood up to walk him to the door, and hugged him hard.

He kissed me on the forehead. "Love you, Zoe…say hi to Data for me."

"Oh, I will."

And he left.

I waited a beat, stuck my tea mug in the return slot of the replicator, and then perched on the edge of the desk chair to start my call. "Outgoing," I instructed it, "call to Lieutenant Commander Data aboard _U.S.S. Sovereign._"

There was a delay, and then the image of the _Sovereign_'s communications officer filled the screen. "Miss Harris," he greeted, "Commander Data is in with the Captain. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Can you transfer me to the message system in his quarters?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I flinched at the use of ma'am. I was so not old enough to _be_ a ma'am, but I was also fairly certain such terms were encoded in the DNA of those destined to be Starfleet officers. "Thank you." There was another pause, and then I had the menu for leaving a private video message.

"Hey, Data," I said, looking straight into the camera on my system. "Sorry to bug you while you're on duty, but it's four in the morning here, and if I don't do this now I won't sleep. There were protesters again tonight, but it's no big thing. I'm attaching a file of the interview I did…you were mentioned, so I thought you shouldn't wait to see."

I thought about ending my message there, but the heavy truths T'vek and I had talked about had made me see my own stupidity. "You know that point I agreed to consider and discuss?" I hesitated, searching for the perfect words, and then realized that for Data, anything I said would be perfect in the moment. "I think we should embrace words like fiancée."

I let that hang there for a minute, but I could feel a smile spreading across my face. "I love you," I said. "I miss you. Call me when you can." I used the manual controls to encrypt and send the message, and then went to bed.

* * *

**IV**

**Friday, December 29th, 2377**

**6:00 PM Local Time**

I walked into my dressing room for the last performance of _Cabaret_ to find a bouquet of Turkalian irises waiting for me. Someone had taken the liberty of putting water in the vase, but the card was still sealed. I opened it, expecting a digital message. Instead, in precise, slightly angular handwriting, I saw the words, "I know it is customary to wish that you 'break a leg,' but I find I cannot. Instead, just know that I love you, and will be with you soon. Data." It seemed somehow odd that I didn't recognize his handwriting, but then, how often did anyone even use pen and ink anymore?

I wasn't certain how he had managed to arrive almost a day ahead of schedule, and I resisted the urge to peek out into the house and find out where he was sitting. I forced myself to go through my usual pre-performance routine, drinking water, using the restroom, doing my hair and make-up. At the last minute, I decided I needed a talisman, and since the theatrical mask pendant he'd given me years ago couldn't be part of my Sally Bowles costume, I tucked his card into my bra.

Maybe it was because the whole town knew this was our last performance, or maybe it was because the new year was just a couple of days away, or maybe it was just that the cast was ready to move on to new projects, but our performance felt electric. Jimmy added some ad-libs to his opening number that had the entire house either laughing or gasping in shock - often both - and when Aurora and Niles did their number about marriage, even I got teary. It wasn't surprising, then, that we finished our run with a standing ovation, though it was a bit beyond the norm to have three curtain calls.

Backstage, champagne corks were popping almost before the house had emptied. "Zoe, great show tonight," Rory enthused. "Did I see your partner earlier?"

"If you did, that makes one of us," I said.

"Oh, honey, that Starfleet officer of yours? I totally let him into your dressing room earlier. Here, take this, go find him and get out of here." Jimmy hugged me and thrust a bottle of champagne into my hands. "We love you, but I know you've been missing him."

I took the bottle, and gave one-armed hugs to everyone on the way back to my dressing room. Data was already there, looking at all the different pictures I'd stuck on the perimeter of my mirror - a theater tradition most of us followed. "Hey," I said softly, stepping all the way into the room, and closing the door behind me. "I thought you weren't going to be here 'til tomorrow."

"Captain Gupta agreed with my assessment that my assignment was complete," he said. "I was not certain I would be able to be here in time for this evening's performance, and arrived just before the theater opened. Rory managed to find a ticket for me. Are the flowers acceptable?"

I left the champagne on the counter and crossed the room to hug him. "The flowers are a lovely surprise," I said. "I kept the card with me on stage tonight." His arms came around me and we kissed, but then I pulled back a little and rested my head against his chest. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I am glad to be here, as well," he said into my hair, still holding me. "I am sorry we have had to spend the last week playing 'message tag.'"

"Me, too," I said, looking up at him. "But I'm pretty sure the fact that you're standing here means that I won." I stayed there, in his embrace for a few seconds, before asking, much more wistfully than I meant to, "Can we go home now?"

"If you do not wish to rejoin the party, I will escort you back to your hotel."

"No," I said. "I mean, yes, I'd like to shower, but…I was expecting you early tomorrow anyway, and except for a few things here and some odds and ends at the hotel, I'm pretty much packed. Can we just…go home? We have a lot to talk about and I'd really like to do it at home, with tea, and Spot to cuddle, and…I miss sleeping in our bed."

"Spot," he repeated. "Our bed…you are referring to the _Enterprise_." It wasn't a question, but a statement, one laced with happiness.

I nodded. "Well, I guess the farm is also home." I'd actually inherited it from my grandmother after her death. "But all the really big shifts in our relationship have happened on the ship, and I'd really like to be there, with you, when the year turns. Do you mind? I know it's more travel, sooner."

"No," Data said. "I do not mind."

**(=A=)**

The beauty of starships is that they move around. Living on one, especially on one the size of the _Enterprise, _you tended to think of it more as a sort of _place_ than a vehicle, but the reality is that the ship moved, and when Data checked in to confirm our travel plans, we found that it was considerably closer than even he had anticipated. Instead of taking the better part of two days in the shuttle, our trip home would only take about seven hours.

By unspoken mutual agreement, we did not use those seven hours to discuss our relationship or the prospect of appearing in a joint interview. Instead, I sat in the cockpit with him, and we just chatted. I caught him up on the news from home, and from those of my friends that he had known, and he told me more about his time on the _Sovereign, _and when we needed a break from that, there was lunch (black bean soup and a grilled cheese sandwich - a combination even the basic replicator on the shuttle could manage fairly well), and then I pulled out my padd and started reading the scripts I'd been sent to look at, sometimes reading sections out loud to see if I liked the way the words felt.

Finally, though, we arrived in the docking bay of the great ship, and exited the shuttle to a welcoming committee that included the Captain himself, as well as Geordi, Deanna, and Will, the latter of whom pulled me into a brotherly bear hug. "We saw you on _FYE_ the other night. You've become quite the celebrity," he teased. "I'm glad you're still willing to come spend time with us little people."

I laughed with him, but was quick to counter with, "I'm not a celebrity, I just play one on the news sometimes." The truth was that the press interest in me had been growing steadily over the past couple of years, and as much as I pretended otherwise, it made me a little uncomfortable. Embarrassed, I pulled away from him.

"Zoe, I'm glad you're back," Deanna had welcomed Data home with a warm hug, and now she came to do the same to me. "Everything okay?" she whispered softly. "You've lost weight."

"Talk tomorrow?" I asked. "Maybe over coffee? Except for the shuttle ride, Data and I haven't actually spent any alone-time." She nodded and I raised my voice to ask, "Wow, does Data always get this kind of welcome home, or is this just for me? I mean, it's not like we eloped or anything."

"Oh, greeting returning officers with hugs is an _Enterprise_ tradition," came the dry response from Picard. I turned away from Dee to meet his gaze, finding only bemused affection in his steely eyes. "Welcome home, Zoe."

"Thank you, sir," I said, and we did embrace, though it was quick and perfunctory. "I'm sorry you never made it to my show, but it was thoughtful of you to send flowers for the opening. They brightened my hotel room a lot."

"I'm sorry to have missed it," he said amiably. "Mr. Data says there may be video?"

"We usually record at least one performance for archival purposes. I could probably hook you up with a copy if you'd like."

"Please do."

Data stepped away from his conversation with Geordi, who also came to get a hug. Then, turning to me, he said, "I will escort you to our quarters, but I must make my report to the Captain before I can remain there with you for any length of time."

"It's fine," I said. "Really. I'd like to call my parents if I can, and just let them know we arrived safely, but otherwise, I think a nap is calling my name. Do what you need to do. Home equals routine." It was short-hand for something we both sometimes had difficulty with: treating my stays on the _Enterprise _or his at the farm, or the apartment in San Francisco, or whatever hotel room I was in as normal life, and not a vacation.

"Agreed," he said. But he still insisted on steering the antigrav sled that held all our luggage (mostly mine) down the corridors.

Geordi came with us, having first ensured that he wasn't intruding. "It's good to have you back with us, Zoe," he said. "Data's not the only one who misses you when you're off being famous."

"Oh, god, I am _so_ not famous," I protested. "Actually the two of you are more famous than I am; you're just never in situations where you have to confront your fame." I was walking between them, partly because it would keep them from falling into engineer-chat. "I did a couple of interviews. I've been doing interviews half my life. Ask my father sometime…I think he's got home movies of a talk-show we did when I was seven. 'The home life of the hottest conductor in the galaxy' or some such. I had no front teeth and they made me wear this pink, ruffled, flouncy thing that still gives me nightmares. It was super-fun."

He gave me a measuring look, which was somehow more intimidating with his optical implants than it would have been with his VISOR. "You don't want to be a celebrity?"

I shook my head. "I can't deny that a little bit of notoriety is helpful in opening doors, but I'd rather be known for being good at what I do." I hesitated. "You're awfully silent over there, Data," I observed after a few beats. But I turned back to Geordi, asking, "Do you think I don't know that at least half the opportunities I get are because I'm my father's daughter or Data's…?" I trailed off. We still didn't have a word for us that I liked.

"Fiancée." He finished the sentence for me.

"What?" Geordi and I said it together, but in distinctly different tones.

"We have not yet had time for me to officially present an engagement ring," Data explained as we reached the door to our quarters. "And we have many details to…negotiate…but Zoe has agreed to marry me. May we ask that you refrain from telling anyone yet?"

Data navigated the sled through the door, and I followed, but Geordi was still in the corridor, as if frozen.

"Engaged? The two of you? Finally?"

It wasn't the way I'd wanted to be proposed to, really, nor, I'm sure, was it the way Data wanted to do it. He was totally the down-on-one-knee type. But I had agreed to marry him, even if it was by message, and I really didn't need a ring. "Oh, please," I said, catching Data's hand and tugging him inside. "It's not like there was ever any serious doubt. Geordi, would you let the captain know that Data will be a bit…delayed?"

I let a laughing Geordi LaForge respond in the affirmative before stepping out of the way of the door so it would close. After it did, I turned to face Data, caught between laughter and tears. "I love you," I said. "I should be royally pissed at you for just blurting things like that, though."

"But you did agree," he pointed out.

"I agreed to a proposal you haven't actually made," I countered. "Unless you want me to propose to you? I'm not the traditionalist here, and I don't expect you to go ring shopping, but…"

"I have already secured a ring." His interruption may have been quiet, but it got my attention.

"What? When?" I backed away from him until I ran into the couch, and then I sat down, stunned.

He crossed the room to the drawer where some of his keepsakes were stored, and removed a small blue box. Turning back to me, he asked, "Do you recall our visit to Atrea IV last year?"

"I remember," I said. "I don't recall you sneaking out to go shopping at any point, though. You and Pran were pretty absorbed in that project of his."

He opened his mouth to answer me, but the com-system came to life, "Picard to Commander Data."

"Data here," he answered. "Go ahead, Captain."

"Mr. Data, I've been reminded that you and Ms. Harris typically celebrate the turning of the year as a personal holiday. As you are technically on detached assignment through the first of the year, I will have to insist that you hold your report to me until your scheduled return date. We will process your return to duty after the holiday."

"Aye, Captain," he said. "Thank you, sir. Data out."

"Geordi arranged that, I'm betting."

"I believe you are correct. I will have to speak to him about such matters -"

"Data…" I gave him a look that clearly meant, 'Focus.'

"Forgive me. As I was about to explain, I did not 'go shopping.' Before we left, my mother gave me the engagement ring she received from my father, along with the instruction to 'give it to Zoe when the time is right.'"

"I've seen that ring," I said. Juliana had taken pity on me when the science-y stuff had threatened to overwhelm what should have been a pleasant visit, and we'd spent a lovely afternoon in her bedroom going through her jewelry box. She had an amazing collection of vintage pieces, and I'd found a few of them stashed in my luggage when we left - with a note thanking me for loving her son. "It's an antique," I added. "And it's exquisite."

"I am gratified that you think so." He did not kneel, after all, but put the box on the coffee table and sat with me on the couch, taking both my hands in his. "More than once when I have attempted to bring up the subject of marriage, you have evaded the discussion, or given me a reason why you do not wish to make our relationship…official. While I am relieved that you have 'changed your mind,' I would like to know why."

"It's not that important," I began, but he cut me off.

"Zoe, please tell me." His eyes were wide, and fixed on my face. Very softly he added, "I need to know."

I nodded. "When T'vek and Anjali came to see my show, we went out for drinks. Anj went to bed early, and sent Tev to lecture me on the care and feeding of androids."

"I do not understand."

"He asked why we weren't already married, and when I told him he hit me with a clue-by-four and said I was being obtuse, and that if I didn't talk to you about the real, well, not real, but the _deeper _reason I'd been avoiding the issue he'd do it for me."

"Ah." I hadn't heard him make that sound in a very long time. "When should I expect his call?" His smirk was priceless, and perfect.

"Data!" If my hands had been free I'd have hit him with a pillow, just to make a point. "We've discussed almost everything we need to," I said. "We've talked about my career and your career, we've pretty much figured out how to have two homes, and yeah, the distance and separations get hard, but I know that they're not really changing what either of us feels."

"You are still evading the real issue," he said. He was rubbing his thumbs over the backs of my hands as we talked, and it was calming in one way and more than a little bit distracting in others. "You have stated that you do not wish to be a 'Starfleet widow,' but I suspect if that were truly an issue, we would not be here, now."

"No," I agreed softly. "We wouldn't. Look, it's stupid. It's just…Dana is pregnant with her second child. Anj and Tev just found out that Anj is pregnant. I was convinced that marrying you would mean never being a mother, myself, and then I realized we'd never even discussed children. Do you even want to be a father again?"

"You know I cannot 'father' children," he stated, tightening his hands around mine, though he loosened them just as quickly.

"I've been reminded that there are numerous ways to have a baby," I paraphrased T'vek's line, "'for whatever value of 'baby' you and I deem appropriate.'" I watched his face as the thought penetrated his positronic brain. His eyes didn't quite flicker the way they used to, but if you knew - as I did - what to look for, you could see that he was focused more inward than outward.

"Adoption," he said. "Artificial insemination with donor sperm. In vitro fertilization. Black market sources…"

"You are not suggesting we buy a Dominion War orphan?" I'd heard the stories on the news.

"No," he said quickly.

"You left out building one," I said gently. "Well, not an actual _baby_, obviously, but you told me once that you wanted to try that again someday."

"You would accept an android child?" He seemed both surprised and pleased by that notion.

"I would love _your_ child, Data. Though, I would have a couple of requests if we went that route."

He cocked his head, suddenly more interested, as if the notion was no longer theoretical. "Tell me."

"You told me that you allowed Lal to select her own gender and appearance, but you never had that option, and organic children certainly don't. There's very little - if anything - I can contribute to the creation or upbringing of an android child. I'd be just an annoying human presence you and he or she would have to accommodate. I could learn to deal with that, but I'd prefer to figure out a way to be part of the process. At least, I'd like to be able to look at _our_ child and see something of myself reflected. It's actually the _only_ way to have a child that reflects both of us."

"That is a reasonable request," Data said. "Though I believe you are underestimating your ability to contribute. You have met _my_ mother. Even had she not been my father's associate, I believe her input into social behavior and other, less specific elements of my…being…would have been invaluable." He gave me a look that was one part reproach, one part wistfulness, and one part…something else. "Even androids benefit from someone with a 'maternal instinct' being there to guide them."

I smiled softly. "Your mother told me that she'd lobbied for making you female. Selfishly, I'm glad she didn't, but personally, I've often thought _you_ would have benefitted from having a little sister to needle you." I hesitated. "I don't want us to have strings of children - I think it's socially irresponsible, for one thing - but two feels right. One built…and one born? I mean, obviously we don't have to decide it all tonight…but…"

"But it would be a reasonable balance." As if he'd just realized he'd never answered my original question, he said very softly. "You would not let me adequately broach the subject of marriage so I chose not to address the possibility of creating a family together. It is something I very much wish to do. However, I am not certain I am 'ready' to embark on the creation of a new 'built' child just yet. I will gladly begin researching our options for artificial insemination, if you wish."

I laughed softly. "Give the man a project…" but I added more seriously, "oh, I wish. I very much wish. But Data, you and me? We're already a family."

"Indubitably," he said softly, and then, with a bit of nervousness in his tone, "Is there anything else holding you back?"

I laughed, teasing him just a little. "Well there's the whole name-thing."

"I assumed you would keep your name, at least professionally. The name 'Zoe Harris' is more widely known than I believe you realize. Also, I have no last name to give you."

"I've always wondered why you never used 'Soong' once you actually met him." I shrugged and let that pass. "The whole taking-your-husband's-name thing is becoming an outdated tradition, but - " and I gave him my sauciest smile " - you know, you could always take _my_ last name. 'Data Harris' has kind of a nice ring to it, and you could still be, you know, _you_ professionally."

"I will consider your suggestion," he said lightly. He let go of my hands, and slid to his knee on the floor. "Speaking of rings," he said, "you are correct in that we do not 'need' to be married. Our commitment to each other is already undeniable. However," and he swallowed reflexively, "this is not about 'need;' it is about 'want.' I _want _the legal recognition of our status and the formal agreement that our lives are entwined." He reached for the box, opened it, and took out the ring his mother had once worn. "I _want _to experience parenthood and family togetherness with you." He held the ring to the light so I could see it properly. "I _want_ you to wear this ring as a token of that commitment, and of our love for each other. I _want _to be your husband and for you to be my wife. Will you?"

Even after dancing around the issue for more than a year, let alone the conversation we'd just had - even with the knowledge that at least two people knew we were already (technically) engaged, I found myself breathless. Finally, I said, "Yes. Oh, god, yes. Yes, so much."

He slipped the ring onto my left ring-finger, and I noted that it fit perfectly. He'd even found time to resize it. "Zoe," he began, but I shushed him with a kiss, and my hands on the sides of his face.

"No more talking," I said against his lips. "I love you, but no more talking. Just…take me to our bed."

**(=A=)**

I woke up in bed hours later, rolling over and into Data. "You're still here," I observed, ever-so-brilliantly. "Is something wrong?"

Computer-glow revealed the shimmer of a nearly invisible optical cable attached to a port in his head. "I wished to remain near you," he said, the words speaking volumes.

I was lying on my right side, so I lifted my left hand to touch him, catching the flicker of light from my ring. "I like it when you work in bed," I said. "But you know I don't expect it, right? I mean, honestly, one of the benefits of being with you is that most of the time, I get the whole bed to myself."

"And I thought you loved me for my magnetic personality." It was one of his worst puns, but it always made me smile anyway.

"Among other things," I said. I traced his eyebrow with the tip of my finger, then did the same with his lips. "As long as you're plugged in, would you mind sending messages to both my sets of parents - I never did that last night - and one to Deanna scheduling a coffee-date?" The first time I'd asked him to do such a thing I'd felt weird and awkward, until he'd finally hit upon the analogy that made it better, comparing it to asking someone headed to the kitchen to get something 'while you are up.' I still didn't ask often, but at least I knew he truly didn't mind.

"It is done," he told me a few seconds later.

"Handy, that." I said. "Thank you." I nestled closer to him, resting my head against his left shoulder. "I've missed this," I said softly. "Lying with you, dozing while you work. I mean, the sex is nice, too…" I trailed off, not sure where to go with my thought.

"I understand," came Data's equally quiet words. "I, too, find a particular contentment in these moments." I heard the subtle click of the cable being unplugged, the nearly inaudible whir of his hair sliding back into place. He lifted his free arm and caressed my shoulder, my hip. Then he found my hand and twined his fingers with mine.

"You know, it wasn't just T'vek's conversation that made me realize I was ready for official commitments," I told him. "It was seeing you on the screen in command red."

"You have seen me in 'command' colors before."

"Yeah, but I had this flash of you becoming Captain Data someday, and I realized I wanted to be there for it."

"I am not certain I am meant to command others in that way," he confessed. "But if I were to attain that rank, I would want you to 'be there.'"

Pleasantly muzzy, I merely nestled closer to him. "Sleepy," I said, half-yawning. "Love you."

"I love you, also," he said. "Please sleep. Tonight, I am not going anywhere." I felt him kiss the top of my head, felt his hand release mine and find a resting place on my hip, and after that, I felt nothing but the bliss of sleep.

* * *

**V**

**Stardate 54998.34**

**(31 December 2377, 9:30 AM)**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_

The Happy Bottom Riding Club, formerly known as Ten-Forward, was fairly empty when I arrived to meet Deanna Troi for our coffee date. She was dressed in off-duty clothes, a burgundy jumpsuit I'd seen her wear more than once, and her hair was down. Beverly Crusher was sitting with her, in uniform, but with a casual posture: one leg bent against her chest with her foot on the chair.

I had originally wanted to be subtle, to see if they would notice my newly adorned ring-finger, but suddenly I wasn't in the mood for game-playing. I joined them at their table, singing softly as I took my seat, "Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry. He's all I wanted all my life, and even more. He smiled at me, and the music started playing 'Here Comes the Bride' as he walked through the door."

Deanna grinned at me, reaching out a hand to squeeze mine, rather than getting up for a hug. "It's good to hear you singing, Zoe. What's got into you?"

"I think you mean _who_," Beverly deadpanned. Once you were within her inner circle of friends, she could be surprisingly bawdy.

"Mmm, good point."

"You two are bad, bad people," I said, laughing. "To think they let you treat patients!" I waited a beat after teasing them, then added, falling into the pattern of a word-game I'd often played with my mother, "I'm thinking about words that start with the letter 'f.' Family…forever…" I made a show of using my left hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Fiancé."

"Finally! Data finally proposed to you!" Deanna blurted happily. "He didn't tell us, or we'd have planned something special."

"He didn't tell anyone," I explained. "T'vek and his wife were on Erehwon, and came to my show. Afterward, I got a sort of come-to-Surak lecture."

"But he _did_ propose," Beverly said. "Come on, let's see that ring properly." She smiled at me, as well, lowering her leg, so she could lean forward. I put my left hand in the center of the table. "Oh, Zoe, that's lovely."

"It looks old," Deanna observed.

I lifted my hand so she could get a better view, and explained, "It's an antique. When we visited Juliana and Pran a while ago, she showed it to me - it was the engagement ring she got from Noonien Soong - and apparently she slipped it to Data before we left. I think she said it was Noonien's mother's as well."

"Why _did_ you put him off so long?" Beverly asked gently. "You two have always seemed so connected. Even when you were dating casually before he installed the chip."

"We weren't dating before the chip," I said.

"Right," the doctor said, sarcastically. "You only had a standing engagement every time you came to visit your mother, and he just happened to invite you to any social events going on."

"For at least some of that time, I had a boyfriend at Yale."

"Who never came with you," Deanna pointed out.

"Well…"

"Mmhmm. But back to the question at hand…why delay the inevitable?"

I signaled a server and ordered a mocha and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies. "Because," I said softly, "sometimes I forget that we live in the future." I gave them the salient points of my conversation with T'vek, and the subsequent one with Data.

Beverly was smiling the soft kind of smile that only people who have been parents can ever pull off, and Deanna was almost misty. "Data was a good father to Lal," the doctor said. "I'm sure that together you'll both be amazing parents."

"Which reminds me - don't be surprised if he shows up demanding information about artificial insemination. You _know_ what he's like when he has a new project."

Our laughter came as a chorus, but as I was reaching for one of the cookies, Beverly asked gently, "Will you tell us, now, why you've lost so much weight?"

"Tag-teaming me," I said to Deanna. "Really?" But I wasn't really angry, more amused.

"I heard there were protestors outside your theater," she said, by way of a response. "Does that have anything to do with it?"

I shook my head. "No. Well, it may have been a minor factor, but this is just a result of too much work, too much bad hotel food, too many late nights - there was this club down the block from the theater - and pining…"

"For Data…" they finished the sentence together.

"I was going to say 'the fjords,' actually," I quipped, "but, yeah, Data, too." I paused. "I'm completely pathetic, aren't I?"

Deanna favored me with a fond smile. "No, you're just very much in love."

"Yeah, I am." I said smiling, but I let the expression slip away. "And very much weirded out. Harb - the interviewer from FYE - suggested that there may be a connection between these protestors and the people from KEHL who were harassing us a while back."

"Did you mention that to Data?" Beverly asked. "If he is investigates it, I'm sure a resolution will be found. His fondness for Sherlock Holmes isn't just an affectation."

"I know," I said. "Oh, god."

"What is it?" Beverly's question had no small amount of maternal concern.

I said it out loud for the first time, tasting the words. "I'm getting married." I said. And then, because it didn't seem quite real, "I'm marrying Data."

Deanna called over one of the servers. "Another round of chocolate for all of us," she ordered. "We're going to need a lot more chocolate, as well."

**(=A=)**

"Are you _sure_ I can wear jeans to this thing?" I asked Data for what was probably the eleven millionth time in the space of two hours. After trying on the vast majority of the clothes that I actually had with me on the ship, I'd settled on a forest-green sweater, black jeans, and a pair of ankle boots that had chunky heels of only an inch and a half in height, but I was still questioning my choice.

"Captain Picard was very specific that this was a casual gathering of the people he considers his closest friends."

"Super!" I said, resorting to a level of snark I hadn't used in quite a while. "You go, and I'll stay here and drive nails into my arms while reading Tolstoy. In the original Russian."

He arched his eyebrows in the way that meant even _his _tolerance was fading. "Zoe," he said in his most patient tone, "I realize that your pre-Picard grumbling is something of a ritual, but - "

"Oh, god," I interrupted him. "It _is_. It's totally a ritual. I don't even mean it anymore."

"I am confused."

I sat on the couch, and patted the space next to me. He joined me, as I explained. "I grumble, or used to, because being around all of you made me feel impossibly young and ordinary and boring."

"You have never been ordinary or boring." From anyone else it would have been an empty compliment. From him, I knew, it was completely sincere.

"Compared to a room-full of big damned heroes? Yeah, I am. Or was. But…it's like…it took me being away from the ship for a while, and then us officially dating before I ever asked for a proper tour, because I was stuck in the patterns of bitchy, teenaged me. My 'pre-Picard grumble' is the same thing. I'm actually _not_ nervous around all of you together anymore, but I'm stuck in the pattern."

"Then, how do I help you break out of that pattern?"

I smiled. "You already have; it just took me a while to realize it. But," I teased, "you have to admit it takes special talent to try the patience of, well, _you._"

"You have many special talents," he observed, and while that would have sounded delightfully dirty in any other situation, at that moment it was only sweet.

"As do you. But you're still not getting your present until we get back."

He reached for my left hand, lifted it to his lips and placed a soft kiss over my ring. "The only present I require, you have already given me."

I wanted to say something equally heart-melting, but instead I just stretched to kiss him before saying, "Okay, let's go."

**(=A=)**

The captain's gathering turned out to be just as casual as Data had promised it would be. Maybe it had been the knowledge that my nerves had become a mere habit, or maybe it was the ring I wore on my finger, but I felt much more at ease than I had on prior occasions. Then, too, the gathering was incredibly low-key, just the senior command crew, plus a few others, as well as Doctor Crusher, and Counselor Troi in one of the smaller holodecks for wine and cheese and soft conversation.

He'd even programmed a cozy winter hall, with fireplaces, and flickering candlelight, and a gentle snow falling beyond arched windows. It was lovely, and felt as magical as such settings ever do.

"Zoe," the captain greeted me with European-style kisses soon after Data and I arrived. "Thank you for the video file. I enjoyed your performance immensely."

"Thank you for having me," I said. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I thought the choice to set on occupied Bajor was inspired."

"It got attention, at least." I agreed.

"Do you know what your next project will be?"

"I've been reading scripts, but so far, nothing's jumping out at me, but I'm pretty sure I want to do something a bit less…grim…next time. Maybe a comedy. A friend of mine from school started an improv troupe, and he keeps asking me to come be a guest performer, so I'm thinking about that." I shrugged. "I don't want to be out of work for too long, but there's more than a little appeal in the concept of down time."

I felt Data's arm encircle my waist. "I was not aware you were considering improvisational theater," he said. "Working without a script seems…daunting."

I turned my head to catch his expression. "Have you ever tried improv?" I asked. "It's not as scary as it seems. Once you accept the rules - and the idea that there are no wrong answers - it's actually kind of freeing. But I'm considering a lot of things, including the fact that I really don't want another three-month separation from you if I can help it." I glanced back at the captain. "Pathetic, I know."

He shook his head. "Not at all. But Zoe, you know you are always welcome here."

"Thank you," I said. "That much has finally sunken in, but it's not so much a question of being welcome as it is of having something constructive to do."

He smiled a softer smile. "I'm sure if anyone can figure it out, you and Mr. Data can." His tone shifted from casual friend to host, "Please help yourselves to wine and cheese. There's a Malbec I think you'll enjoy particularly, Zoe. Will you excuse me?"

"Of course, sir," Data answered for both of us, just as the captain moved off, presumably to spend some time with his other guests.

We spent much of the rest of the evening mingling, and sampling the wine and cheese - the Malbec _was_ delicious. Reg Barclay was aboard, working with Geordi on some project or other, and visiting his girlfriend Sarah at the same time, and the five of us formed our own group, of sorts.

"Zoe, are you staying on the _Enterprise_ for a while?" Sarah asked.

I glanced at Data before answering. "I'm not sure yet. I only finished my last gig the day before yesterday, and I need a break, but I don't want to be in the way." It was a different version of the conversation I'd had with the captain.

"Well, if you're still here once classes resume, would you consider doing some acting exercises with the older kids? The members of the theater group aren't unwilling, but they all have other responsibilities that make scheduling tough. Besides, you're a _real_ actress."

"I've never really done much work with kids," I answered truthfully. "Do you mind if I think about it and get back to you?"

"Oh, of course. Take your time. I hope I wasn't imposing."

I shook my head. "You weren't…it's just been an eventful couple of days. I'm surprised no one's told you."

"Told me what?"

I was about to tell her of the latest shift in my relationship with Data - and show off my ring - when a couple of duty-ensigns began circulating glasses of champagne, and the captain returned to the center of the room.

"While the stardate doesn't quite match the turning of Earth's year, we have chosen to celebrate that occasion tonight, anyway," Picard began, his voice commanding our attention without being at all loud. "However, this evening, there is another event we are also marking, and I cannot help but believe it to be an auspicious beginning to the new year."

"Please lift your glasses, and join me in congratulating Lieutenant Commander Data and Zoe Harris on their engagement."

I reached for Data with my free hand, leaning close to whisper, "Did you put him up to this?"

"I did not," he said. "But I am not surprised."

"To Data and Zoe," the captain intoned, and the rest of his guests repeated it, lifting their glasses toward us. We didn't drink, of course, but we did lift our glasses in a return gesture to the friends - family, really - assembled.

"To absent friends," the captain added, and this time Data and I joined in, as well.

"And to a new year full of peace and prosperity for all."

The holographic sky lit up with fireworks shimmering against the snow, as we lifted our glasses one more time, and drank to the start of 2378.

**(=A=)**

Spot was in the center of the bed when we returned to Data's quarters, sleeping peacefully. "Don't wake her," I said.

"But you are tired," Data pointed out. He wasn't wrong, I'd yawned at least twice just in the turbo-lift.

"Yeah, but I'm not ready for bed just yet. How about tea and couch-time for a little bit? I still have a present for you."

"Mint or chamomile?"

"Surprise me."

I went into the bedroom, kicking off my boots, and stripping off my jeans and sweater, replacing them with his old uniform shirt, got his present from the shelf inside 'my' part of the closet, and returned to find both Data and a mug of tea waiting for me.

I padded over to sit on the couch. "Kindly remember that you hadn't proposed when I chose this," I asked, handing him the notebook-sized flat package. "After that, anything is bound to be anti-climactic."

I sipped the tea - he'd chosen mint, after all - while he carefully removed the wrapping paper. More than one of his friends - me included - had tried getting him to just rip open packages, but I'd finally accepted that he never would. "It is…sheet music…" he observed, examining the fragile paper pages.

"You'll have to digitize it so the paper doesn't get destroyed," I said. "But it's not just any sheet music. It's a collection of music that I found when I was doing prep for playing Sally. The Interwar Duets for Violin and Cello." I'd been listening to it nonstop during our rehearsal period, and then chanced to find a copy in a used bookstore. "I'm really rusty," I added. "I pretty much haven't touched a cello since…well, you know."

"You wish to return to playing music?"he asked.

"I wish to return to playing music _with you_," I said, shrugging lightly. "I thought this might be a good choice." I waited a beat, watching him for a reaction. "Data?"

"Yes," he said. "I would enjoy that."

I didn't mention that I'd need his help to be able to play even close to the level I had as a teenager, or that making music with him was what had changed my feelings from 'just a crush' to 'something more.' I didn't have to explain it, but I did laugh and accuse, "You're already creating a lesson plan to get me back up to speed, aren't you?"

"It is…what I do."

"Not all of what you do," I said, setting my mug aside. "Not by half." I slid across the couch til I was curled against him. "There's a recording of it by Yegor Dyachkov & Olivier Thouin in the library computer. Let's just listen a while."

He instructed the computer first to dim the lights, and thento play the first piece in the collection. His arm came around me, and I settled into his embrace. As the first few measures wafted through the room, I lifted my hand to watch my ring sparkle in the soft light. "Data," I said softly, "we're getting married."

"Yes," he said, his breath teasing the top of my head. "We are."

"I made you wait so long to propose…let's not wait as long for the rest…"

"We will discuss it in the morning," he said firmly, but gently. "Shh. Just rest. And listen."

And we did.

_We drank a toast to innocence  
We drank a toast to time  
Reliving in our eloquence  
Another 'Auld Lang Syn_e'

* * *

**NOTES: **"Another Auld Lang Syne" is by Dan Fogelberg. The "Interwar Duets" are a collection of pieces tracing the changes in music between the World War I and World War II, and while they start out very traditionally "classical," as the cycle progresses you can hear the influence of other cultures on the Euro-centric music. _Cabaret_ is by Kander and Ebb, and takes place in Berlin just as the Nazis are coming into power (hence having Zoe's production set on Bajor). The reference to barbed wire has to do with the ending of the stage version (which is MUCH grittier than the Liza Minnelli movie). At the end of the finale, the emcee strips off his leather duster to reveal that he's wearing the striped outfit of a concentration camp prisoner, adorned with both a yellow star and a pink triangle. He throws himself onto the electric fence. "(Today I Met) The Boy I'm Gonna Marry" is by Ellie Greenwich, Tony Powers, and Phil Spector. The most popular recording was made by Darlene Love. Data's time on the _U.S.S. Sovereign_ is taken from the game _Bridge Commander_, though I changed his assignment.


End file.
